


Forbidden Harmony

by Dorzalty_C



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed: Unity, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-09 17:45:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10417740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorzalty_C/pseuds/Dorzalty_C
Summary: The secret that Élise had kept sealed between her lips and shielded within the walls of the groundskeepers lodge was a young child. She was named Juliette, and she was Élise and Arno’s beautiful daughter.An AU fic based on how I would have liked to see Unity play out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a headcanon I thought about of how Unity could have gone. It is of course Arno/Élise and majorly told through Élise. It will be loosely based on the events of the game and novel, but I'll be changing quite a few things along the way. I hope you enjoy it :)

     Springtime was a beautiful time of the year, and Élise enjoyed spring for many reasons, one being the delightful smell of the flowers in full bloom. She loved how the vibrant pink, yellow, and red petals added a dash of colour to the majorly green surroundings of the De La Serre Estate.

      As Élise walked through the grounds, her shoes crunched on the stones below. She tilted her head upwards and smiled as the pleasantly warm rays from the sun in the sky shone down and caressed her cheeks. Summer was around the corner, and soon the days would become too hot to gander through the grounds at midday, and instead she would have to retract to the cool shaded areas within the estate.

     This spring was different than previous ones. Now that Élise had finished her education, rather than spending her the spring at _Le Palais de la Misère_ like usual, she was home. Élise reminded herself that she probably should stop referring to her former school in such a way, after all, Maison Royale had been her safe haven in more ways than one.

      It was a place that kept a secret she could not speak of to anyone who was not wise to it. She had even refrained from writing about it in her journals due to the fear that Arno may somehow find out. Not that she suspected he ever read her journals, but still, one can’t be too careful.

      The secret was not hard for her to withhold in respect to keeping her mouth shut, as she had been well practiced in locking things up since the tender age of eight.  However, the secret was hard to keep in other ways, because she knew by keeping quiet, she was wrongly preventing Arno from access to what should be a huge part of his life.

      A smile tugged at the corners of Élise’s mouth as she remembered her arrival back home only two days ago, and the way Arno’s face lit up at the sight of her, and the comfort that he exuded once she had rushed to his embrace.

    It was selfish of her, yes, but the main reason she continued to keep her secret locked up was because she feared that she may never see love reflected in Arno’s eyes ever again if she told him, and rightly so. What she has lied about is something that is not easily forgiven.

      It was over five years ago now that the lies began, and with each passing day, she regretted not telling the truth more and more. Élise knows that she should have told Arno the day she found out. Élise knows that she should have told Arno on the day her secret entered the world. Élise knows that she should have told him in the many letters she wrote to him during her time at Maison Royale, while her little secret grew with each passing day.

       The secret that Élise had kept sealed between her lips and shielded within the walls of the groundskeepers lodge was a young child. She was named Juliette, and she was Élise and Arno’s beautiful daughter. 

***

      It was easy for Élise to figure out she was pregnant. After all, she was sixteen at the time, and far from a child. She knew how everything worked. Still, it took her a month of wallowing and fretting before she built up the courage to tell anyone else. When she didn’t feel able to tell Arno or her Father, she turned to the only other person that she trusted; Mr. Weatherall.

     Luckily for Élise, her protector was visiting England at the time, and so she penned a letter with the confidence that it would never come under her Father’s or Arno’s gaze.

    Less than a week later, Élise was called to her headmistress’s office, wondering what on earth she had done this time to cause Madame Levene to summon her, only to find Mr. Weatherall standing by the headmistress’s desk, his nostrils flaring with anger. One glance towards Madame Levene told Élise that she was well aware of the situation at present.

     “Sit.” Mr. Weatherall ordered.

     Élise frowned as she passed the older man, feeling her confidence in him had been broken.

     Once Élise had sat opposite Madame Levene at her desk, she glared towards Mr. Weatherall.

    “I trusted you, why did you tell her?” Élise asked as she nodded towards Madame Levene.

      Mr. Weatherall looked hurt by Élise’s accusation, and shook his head slowly. “I didn’t.”

      A bewildered expression appears on Élise’s face.

      “Then how…?”

     Élise looked between the two adults in the room, until Madame Levene gave Élise the answer she wanted.

     “I am a knowledgeable woman Mademoiselle De La Serre. While I found your sudden change in attitude these past weeks a little odd, I just thought you were finally settling down,” Madame Levene explains. “But I kept a watchful eye on you, more so than usual, and when I had so many reports of you falling asleep during lessons, and requesting so many breaks to go and relieve yourself, it wasn’t hard for me to guess what was happening to you.” Madame Levene sighed, as if she wasn’t taking pleasure in this conversation. “Then when Monsieur Weatherall came to visit you on ‘ _Private De La Serre business_ ,’ asking me to leave you alone, I questioned him on the matter.”

      “Tricked me more like.” Mr. Weatherall rasped.

      Madame Levene looks unimpressed at Mr. Weatherall’s comment, but Élise thinks how that sounds like something her headmistress would do.

     Élise looks over to Mr. Weatherall, attempting to give him a silent apology for ever doubting his trust.

      “Regardless of what I supposedly did, we need to discuss what will happen from here.” Madame Levene clasps her hands together on her desk in front of her as she speaks in a strict tone.

     Élise stared down at the folds of her skirts and suddenly had visions of the horrid unravelling of events that would most likely follow. She would be expelled, her Father would be informed, Arno would…well Élise really didn’t know how he would react to the news. Alongside all of that, becoming pregnant outside of wedlock would do her no favours. People’s opinions of her would be tainted, she would probably never be taken seriously again, and her ascension to Templar Grand Master would be destroyed.

       “Élise, are you even listening to me?!” Mr. Weatherall shrieked.

       “Yes,” she lied. She wasn’t. His lecture washed over her, barely even gracing her ears. One thing she did hear was when Mr. Weatherall correctly said. “What a bloody awkward situation you’ve got yourself into.”

     Yes, Mr. Weatherall, it was indeed a bloody awkward situation.

     When her protector began pacing the room behind her, muttering something about what her Father was going to do to her, it was then that Élise announced that she had no intention to tell her Father.

     “Are you bloody mad, girl?” Mr. Weatherall asked, his mouth hanging open.

      “Well he needn’t know,” Élise shrugged. “I can make up an excuse not to go home over Christmas, the child will be born before summer.”

      “And what of the child, Élise?” Mr. Weatherall said. “Are you going to keep it here? Hidden under your bed in a box!?”

      “Of course not!” Élise gasped.

      “Then what?” Mr. Weatherall demanded.

      “Well…I…”

      Truth be told, Élise had no idea what she was going to do with the child. She had thought of putting him or her up for adoption, but there were enough orphans in France already, she didn’t need to add to the count. Plus a small part of her already loved her unborn child. Perhaps she had been too naïve, and the more she thought about it, the more she realised she didn’t have a plan at all. What was she going to do?

        “Well?” Mr. Weatherall pressed.

        “I have a suggestion, if I may?” Madame Levene, who had been silently observing the dispute between mentor and student, interjected the both of them. Élise and Mr. Weatherall turned their attention to the older woman.

       “As your headmistress, I can only advise you to tell your Father, that being the morally correct thing to do as you have not come of age yet.” Madame Levene stared at Élise as she spoke, making Élise feel most uncomfortable. “But…” Madame Levene’s eyes moved towards Mr. Weatherall when she spoke again. “If Mademoiselle De La Serre truly does wish to keep this child a secret, then I believe it should her choice.”

       Élise’s jaw dropped. Was her headmistress actually agreeing with her? Was the dreadful, hateful, and stern Madame Levene really siding with Élise on this?

       “You cannot be serious.” Mr. Weatherall responds, astounded.

       Madame Levene ignores the grey-haired man’s protests and turns her attention back to Élise. “I will do everything I can to support you with this, Mademoiselle.”

       Élise felt for sure she must be dreaming. Under no circumstances would her headmistress be so understanding and compassionate towards her. Élise pinched the skin on top of her hand, and it stung. No, she was not dreaming, this was real.

        “Thank you,” Élise mumbled, unable to fully express how grateful she truly was.

***

       It wasn’t until a few weeks later, Élise figured out the real reason Madame Levene had been so empathetic towards her. Her headmistress revealed that she had a son; the groundskeeper, Jacques. He too was born out of wedlock, and to a man that Madame Levene had met long before she married her husband. From that moment on, Élise did not view her headmistress with hateful eyes, but rather more with admiration.

       Over the coming weeks, Élise was wracked with fear each time she caught a glimpse of her ever-growing stomach, so much so that she started to avoid looking down or walking past reflective surfaces.

      Madame Levene became a crutch for Élise. Not only did the older woman understand more than most what it was like to have to keep hush about their child, she was the only person Élise had access to that had experienced pregnancy.

       Her headmistress was there to educate Élise on the normalities and abnormalities of pregnancy, and to quieten her numerous qualms that seemed to worsen as time went on. When Élise could no longer hide under the folds of her skirts, Madame Levene allowed Élise to move into her private quarters of the school.

      The other pupils at the school were informed that Élise had been segregated for unacceptable behaviour, and Élise wasn’t entirely sure that lie would pass, as she had been the model student the past few months. Regardless, whatever her fellow pupils believed, she doubted they would ever come to the conclusion she was with child.

        Mr. Weatherall visited occasionally, and Élise very much enjoyed the time spent with her mentor. He continuously tried to persuade Élise to inform her Father of the situation, but Élise was adamant that she would not, because she could not dismiss the thought that her Father may send the child away, so as not to taint the De La Serre family name. She brought up this subject with Mr. Weatherall one day, to which the older man looked pensive for a while.

     “He still thinks of you as his little girl, Élise, and he loves you, but I think you could have a point. I know for sure he wouldn’t take kindly to this, especially out of wedlock.”

      Élise couldn’t help but see the glint of disapproval in her protector’s eyes. Of course, children out of wedlock were usually frowned upon, more so for a noblewomen like herself, but she never intended to have a child so soon. She didn’t even intend on consummating her relationship with Arno, but things happen.

       “Will you tell the boy?” Mr. Weatherall enquired.

       “I don’t know,” Élise whispered. She had wrote at least ten letters telling Arno about her situation, and each and every one had ended up scrunched into a ball or ripped to shreds and thrown on the fire.

       As much as she loved Arno, he was not as mature as her. Élise had matured quickly at such a young age while Arno, well he still enjoyed playing around like a young boy with not a care in the world. In his letters he often told Élise how he had gotten into trouble yet again with her Father, either through gambling with cards, or upsetting the local marshalcy in one way or another.

       In the end, after much debate, Élise decided it was only fair to tell Arno the truth, and she wholly trusted him not to tell her Father. She penned the letter telling him the news, and it took her two weeks to build up the courage, but she eventually sent it.

     Several days later, she realised what a huge mistake she had made.

***

      “I cannot fathom what you have done!” François De La Serre marched in the lounge of Madame Levene’s private quarters. Every few steps, he would snap his head to the side to glare at his daughter, and then look away, disappointed.

     Élise chewed her top lip anxiously, not really knowing what to say to calm her Father’s temper.

      “Do you even realise what you have done?!” François sternly asked his daughter.

      “Yes,” Élise muttered.

     “And to think you weren’t even going to tell me!” François raised his voice. “It’s a good job my intuition led me to believe something was wrong.”

      François found it extremely odd that his daughter didn’t want to return home for Christmas, and when he had questioned Arno on the matter, the boy had no explanation for him. Even though it was incorrect for him to do so, François had intercepted a couple of letters from his daughter to his ward, and one letter in particular informed Arno of something that made François’ legs wobble and his heart skip a beat.

     “You should not have read my letters,” Élise grumbled, her arms crossed.

     François glowered at his daughter. “I should not have read your letters?! Élise, you should not have laid with a boy in my home! Do you have no self-control?!”

     Élise glared at him, a little perturbed he was being so blunt with her, but her frown melted from her face as she realised it was something that she had asked herself. While she has plenty of self-control, the truth was that in the moment, she was so lost and wrapped up in the whirlwind of love between her and Arno, that her entire thought process had been narrowed to just the two of them. She wasn’t thinking of what might happen in the future. Clearly she should have.

     “Did you at least let Arno read the letter?” Élise enquired, avoiding her Father’s question.

     François stopped walking and faced Élise, clasping his hands behind his back. “No.”

      “Why not? It was my wish for him to-”

     “Arno will not find out about the child, and you will not be keeping the child,” François spoke over Élise.

     “Excuse me?” Élise’s mouth falls agape in shock.

     “Once the child is born, I will find a good, wealthy family for them.”

     “You will do no such thing!” Élise gasped. “Once the child is born I will raise it as my own. To hell with your suggestion.”

     “Élise!” François yelled her name, his nostrils flaring and his face turning a deep shade of red. Élise’s jaw sets in her mouth and she stares at her Father’s darkening expression.

     “Do you think Mother would agree with you?”

    “Don’t you dare bring your Mother into this.” François points a finger towards Élise.

    “Why? Because you know that I have a point, and that Mother would think your idea disgraceful?”

     “Your Mother would agree with me.”

     “No she would not, and you know it,” Élise argues.

     François is stunned into silence. He hates to admit it, but his daughter is right. Julie would never have forced Élise to send her child away if she did not wish to do so. François closes his eyes and begins breathing deeply through his nose, trying to calm his fury.

     “The child is illegitimate,” François says in a softer tone, hoping his daughter will see sense, but it does nothing to quell Élise’s determination.

     “Well then I shall marry Arno as soon as possible, then it won’t be,” Élise retorts.

     François shakes his head. “Don’t speak such nonsense.”

     “I’m not!” Élise exclaims. “I always planned to marry Arno, so we shall just have to wed sooner than expected.”

       François blinks multiple times in quick succession, unable to believe what his daughter was suggesting. While he knew Élise and Arno were fond of one another, he never presumed they had such plans.

     “Please Father, you have to understand,” Élise tries a gentler tone. “This child is mine, just like I am yours. You cannot expect me to willingly give it away.”

      François avoids his daughters gaze. “Mr. Weatherall tells me you plan to raise it here?”

      Élise frowns. “Why did he tell you that?”

      “He didn’t betray you if that is what you are wondering,” François says. “You told Arno in your letter he already knew, I went to speak with him before I came here and he had little choice in giving me answers.”

      “Right.” Élise nodded. “Well yes, that is what I planned to do, at least before…” Élise looks down, ashamed. That was before her Father was wise to what was happening. Élise didn’t need to finish her sentence for her Father to guess what she was going to say. He still couldn’t quite believe that she was going to raise a child behind his back.

      “Keeping the child is truly what you desire?” François asked.

      Élise moved her line of sight to her Father, who was now looking at her expectantly. She gave him a curt nod.

      “Very well then, you will raise it here and Arno will be none the wiser,” François declared.

      “B-but he-…I need-” Élise stutters, before composing herself. “You just said that the child would be illegitimate if we don’t marry.”

      “I said the child would be illegitimate, you are the one who brought up marriage.” François corrects her.

      “So you are suggesting that my child may never know their Father?”

      François sighs, and walks over to sit in the seat opposite Élise.

     “I know you are angry with me, and I can’t express how furious I am with you, but I say this out of love rather than bitterness.” François paused to ensure he had his daughter’s attention. “He’s an Assassin, Élise.” Her Father lowered his voice as he spoke, as if that fact was something Élise didn’t already know.

     “Yes I understand that, Father.”

     François noticed the confusion on Élise’s face.

     “If the Assassins find out Arno is one of them and entice him into joining the Creed, which is a fair possibility due to your refusal to make any attempts to bring him over to our Order.” François shoots her an unimpressed look and Élise chews her bottom lip in guilt. “Do you really think the Creed will congratulate him when they find out he is married to and has a child with a _Templar_? Of course they won’t. Never mind what the rest of our Order would think, their future Grand Master having a husband in the Creed, and a successor that is half Assassin. Do you think it will be safe?” François nods towards Élise’s small bump, which he can only glance at for a moment, the sight of her protruding stomach reminding him what Élise has done.

       Élise places her hands over her stomach protectively. Her Father did have a point.

     “But even _if_ , not _when_ , the Assassins find Arno, and even _if_ he joined them, why would he have to announce that he has a child?” Élise tries to reason with her Father.

       François leans back in his chair and reaches up to run a hand over his clean shaven jaw.

     “The Assassins are more intuitive and observant that we give them credit for. As much as I know you trust Arno, he wouldn’t be able to keep his private life disclosed for long.”

      “Well why should he do such a thing anyway? Maybe Arno and I can be together, and have a family, but just decide to follow different paths in terms of our beliefs.”

       “Oh don’t be so naïve Élise! Were you not listening to me? The world doesn’t work like that!” François snaps.

       Élise’s mouth opened to argue further but then clamped shut again as her heart sank. As much as she wished that the world did indeed work the way she envisioned, it didn’t, and it was a simple as that. Nothing Élise did or said could change the ideals and beliefs that have been around for hundreds of years.  

       “You cannot marry Arno, nor can he know of the child if you want to keep it from harm. Do you understand Élise?” Her Father raised his eyebrows and gave her a firm and intimidating stare.

      “Yes, I understand.”

     Of course Élise understood, but it didn’t mean that she agreed with her Father.

     After François had left, she went straight to her desk to write another letter to Arno telling him the truth, but her Father’s words continually echoed in her mind, seemingly increasing in volume with each sentence she wrote.

     Élise loved Arno with all her heart, and she believed he loved her too, but it wasn’t just the two of them anymore, Élise had someone else depending on her.  And so, as hard as it was, Élise put her feelings for Arno aside, and tried to accept that the future she had imagined with him would never occur.

     The letter she had written ended up being ashes on the fire, and while Élise did write to Arno afterwards, she never mentioned their child.

     When Juliette was born, the immense desire to protect her little bundle of joy was enough for Élise to accept that Arno could never know.  Even if this child didn’t exist, any hope that she would spend her life with Arno had been dashed because it was an entirely plausible option that Arno would join the Assassins, and then the couple stood no chance. Not unless by some miracle the unrest between the Assassins and Templars dissolved.

     On Élise’s subsequent visits home, she tried to avoid Arno at first, but temptation proved too much for her.

     While Élise couldn’t possibly tell Arno the full extent of the conversation she had with her Father, she did tell him that they had to be more careful around the estate, and that her Father did not approve of their blossoming love. It was not a complete lie on Élise’s part, and Arno was more than willing to be more cautious.

     Élise knew one way to ensure she could marry Arno, would be to bring him over to the Order, but she didn’t even attempt to do so. She felt that it should be up to him to decide what path to take, even though by doing so Élise knew she was most likely dooming any chance of them living happily ever after. Élise was also aware that even if she managed to sway Arno to their side, and they could live in harmony as Templars, Arno would eventually find out about Juliette. Then he would know that Élise had lied, and Arno may never forgive her.

     When Élise spent time with Arno on her infrequent visits home, she stopped thinking of the future due to it hurting too much, and instead tried to focus on the time they had together as Arno and Élise, not their ineluctable destiny as Assassin and Templar.

      On numerous occasions, Élise almost told Arno of their daughter, but the subject of Juliette was never broached, and as time passed, Élise felt herself descend further and further into the dark pit of lies and manipulation that was now her life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter starts relating to the main story a little, but diverges in terms of what actually happened.  
> We are back in 1789, on the day of Élise's initiation ceremony. The main difference to be noted before reading is that Arno already knows that Élise has returned from school as she arrived a couple of days ago. 
> 
> Also just a quick thank you to anyone who interacted in any way on my first chapter. I really am so grateful.

     Élise kicked a pebble with the toe of her shoe and sighed, glancing around the place she had ended up. It was close to the location her and Mr. Weatherall originally met on the day Élise took her first step in becoming Templar Grand Master. Oh, how she had changed since that day.

      She plopped herself down onto the nearest rock, not worried about the mess it may make of her sky blue dress. She hated dresses anyway, and only wore them to keep her Father happy. Arno said she looked pretty in dresses, but she didn’t want to look pretty, she would rather be comfortable.

     As it often did when Élise was alone, her mind drifted to her daughter who was safely residing in the groundskeepers lodge under the care of Jacques, Mr. Weatherall, and her cherished friend, Hélène. Élise’s heart ached for little Juliette knowing she wouldn’t see her for a while.

      In Élise’s opinion, Juliette was the perfect mix of herself and Arno. The little girl had Élise’s nose and a lighter shade of her red hair, along with Arno’s deep brown eyes and his charming smile. She had Arno’s charisma and Élise’s wit, and even after over four years, Élise still couldn’t believe she and Arno had produced something so amazing. If only Arno could share her wonder.

      Of course, Élise could visit Maison Royale whenever she liked, the journey wouldn’t take too long. The problem was that too many visits would surely cause suspicion on Arno’s part, and he may start to ask questions. Even after the years of deceit, Élise still felt sick in her stomach every time she had to lie to him, and she utterly hated the taste of each and every lie when they rolled off her tongue.

     If she was completely honest with herself, Élise wanted nothing more than to bring her daughter home permanently, but she couldn’t, for how would she explain it to Arno?  She had on numerous occasions considered bringing the girl home and just outright telling Arno who she was, but that felt far too impulsive.

      Élise truly wished that Arno knew of his daughter, because she realises now that he would never let any harm come to her, and that she and him would have built a unit strong enough that no one could ever break. If only she hadn’t listened to the worries her Father put in her head all those years ago, but things were quite different back then, because Élise was under the impression that she could forget about Arno. As time has passed, it has become clear how wrong she was.

      She remembers her sixteen-year-old self deciding to put her feelings for Arno aside, and focus on her child instead. She remembers thinking that she would never have a life with Arno, and so she would never had the issue of having to tell him of Juliette, but her heart had other ideas, and she couldn’t fight off her feelings for Arno. Her love for him only grew to the point where she now loved him so much, it was sometimes overwhelming.

      If only she could go back in time and shake some sense into her younger self, scream at herself to send that damn letter informing Arno of his child, and that despite her fears for Juliette’s safety, not to listen to her Father, and that it would all be okay, because together she and Arno would figure something out. She wished the sixteen-year-old Élise wasn’t so foolish as to think she could hide this child forever. Alas, Élise cannot undo what is done.

      Now that she had returned home, Élise can foresee that the days will become increasingly harder to bear with the weight of her deception pressing down on her. She would have to see Arno all the time now. It was different when she was only home for a few days at Christmas and a couple of weeks in the summer. She could just about manage to get through those times and keep her mouth shut, but now she honestly didn’t know how she was going to do it.

     The only person to blame for what a horrid web of deceit she was trapped in was Élise herself, but she knew that her lies were catching up with her. She could feel them closing in, threatening to smother her, and worst of all, she felt that her dishonest tale was coming to its end.

     Élise placed a hand to her chest as it suddenly began to feel heavy, the same way it always did whenever she thought about what a mess she was in.

     Everything was fine short-term, but what about after her ascension as Grand Master? Could she really continue to hide a child from her Order? In addition to that, it is inevitable that her daughter will begin asking questions about who her Father is, and Élise is sure that those questions are imminent. And to top it all off, despite her Father’s wishes, her relationship with Arno is continuing to blossom, so there is every chance of Arno bringing up the subject of marriage or a family. He has mentioned it before, but he always referred to it as ‘in the future.’ What about when the ‘future’ arrives? Élise isn’t entirely sure she will be able to look him in the eye and manage not to blurt out that they already have a family.

     However, none of that can compare to Élise’s greatest fear.

     The thing that keeps her awake at night paralysed with anxiety is that irrespective of what happens in the near future, there will come a time when her daughter grows old enough to consider disowning her own Mother for wrongly keeping her away from her Father in her younger years.

       “Something on your mind?”

      Arno’s voice interrupts Élise’s thoughts and makes her jump slightly. She looks up to Arno, shielding her eyes with her hand when the sun penetrating through the leafy trees above almost blinds her.

       “I’m sorry?”

      Arno approaches her, grinning, and Élise notes how handsome he looks today in his black waistcoat and red necktie. She likes it when he wears a waistcoat.

      “You were sat smiling to yourself, then you looked quite troubled. At first I thought that you must be thinking about me, but I don’t like to think thoughts of me make you frown. What were you thinking about?”

     “How long were you watching me?” Élise smirked, dodging his question.

     “Not too long.”

      Élise chuckles, shaking her head as Arno sits down on the luscious green grass at her feet. He rests his back against the rock Élise is using as a seat.

     “You know a man watching a woman without her knowledge is not always a wise idea,” Élise tells Arno, jokingly.

     “Ah, but when the woman is so beautiful, how can a man resist?”

      Élise smiles when she feels the familiar sense of elation in her chest that occurs each and every time Arno said anything affectionate to her. She hoped that feeling would never cease to exist.

     “Flattery will get you nowhere, Arno,” Élise warns him.

      Arno tilts his head back so he can see Élise properly, pursing his lips and raising an eyebrow in the process to give her a mischievous look.

     “Really? Because it always works on you.”

      Élise smacks him playfully on the shoulder, laughing, before gazing forward to the surrounding towering trees. If she squints, she can just about make out the roof of the grand De La Serre estate building from here.

     “Your Father is looking for you by the way. I was sent here to retrieve you,” Arno says, after a brief pause in their conversation.

     “Hmm.” Élise sighs through her nose, unintentionally making an audible noise.

     “He said that I can’t join you this afternoon, at the assembly.”

      Élise notices there is hint of resentment in Arno’s tone as she tears her eyes away from the estate and back down to Arno, who was smiling up at her hopefully.

     “If that’s what he has said then you know I can’t persuade him otherwise.” Élise shrugged, not quite finding it in her heart to tell Arno that she understood her Father’s decision. The rest of the nobles would not take too kindly to Monsieur De La Serre bringing his ward along to such an important occasion. “I don’t imagine you would enjoy it anyway.”

      Arno scoffed, placing a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt by Élise’s words.

     “I love that sort of thing.”

     “Listening to the King and those under his command talk about the economy, ensuring that they use phrases that sound like they will appease everyone, but in actuality are only beneficial to the clergy and the nobility. Thus, resulting in the Third Estate becoming even more irritated due to the King’s blatant disregard for what they actually want. You enjoy that do you?”

      “You don’t feel optimistic about today then?” Arno retorts, sarcastically.

     Élise sighs. “The King doesn’t seem to realise that power doesn’t always come in the form of wealth, it can come with number too.”

     Arno gave Élise a puzzled look, so she bent forward, moving her upper body down towards her thighs until their heads were almost on the same level.

     “We, the Second Estate, along with the First Estate, own roughly the same value of assets as the entire Third Estate, making us more powerful in terms of wealth.” She pauses as Arno leans his head closer to hers with a dreamy look in his eyes. Her gaze drops to his lips briefly then back up to his eyes, and she can tell he isn’t wholly listening to her, but she likes to tease him, and so Élise resists the temptation to kiss him and continues talking anyway. “However, the Third Estate makes up almost our entire population, and they’re starting to realise that. If they all band together, I have no doubt they could wipe us out very quickly. Haven’t you read Sieyès’ pamphlet? The First and Second Estates are unnecessary apparently…”

      Arno lowered his head, looking away from Élise and to his knees. The lustful mood he was in now lost by Élise’s daunting suggestion.  

     “Do you really think it will come to that?” Arno asked, mindlessly snapping off strands of grass next to him with his right hand.

      “I don’t know.” Élise shrugged, sitting upright again.

      “Let us hope not.” Arno reaches out and pats Élise’s leg gently.

      He let the silence lull between them for a minute or so before speaking again.

     “Once the meeting is over, perhaps we can spend the evening together ?” 

     Élise shook her head, but Arno wasn’t looking at her. When she gave him no audible reply he moved his head back once more to look at her, squinting with one eye due to the sun blaring down through the trees.

      Élise had already tried tirelessly for her Father to allow Arno to attend her initiation ceremony into the Templar Order tonight, but alas, her Father’s final words were: “It’s not happening Élise, now stop this persistent pestering, and go and get ready to leave for Hôtel des Menus-Plaisirs.”

      Only Élise hadn’t gone to get ready. Instead, she’s gone for a walk, and that was how she ended up here, sitting upon an increasingly uncomfortable rock, wishing she could avoid the meeting of the Estates General and just spend this beautiful afternoon with Arno.

     “Élise?” Arno was confused at her silence. “What’s wrong?”

     Not only had Élise failed to get her Father to agree to invite Arno to her initiation ceremony, but he had also sworn her to secrecy on the whole matter. Arno wasn’t even aware of it. He still had no idea of her heritage, or his for that matter. No idea that she was a Templar, he an Assassin, and that as far as history goes, if the situation had been different, one of them would have most likely killed the other by now. Just the thought of such a notion makes Élise shudder.

      “Arno, I-”

       “Élise!”

      Both Élise’s and Arno’s eyes widened as a clearly irritated François De La Serre stood between two tree trunks in front of them. Arno shot up to a standing position and Élise heard him gulp the air nervously.

      François glared at his daughter and then his ward, annoyed with both of them. His daughter for wandering off and his ward for failing to retrieve his daughter as requested.

       Élise joined Arno in a standing position when the piercing look of anger in her Father’s eyes began to scare her a little. She reached behind her and brushed the back of her dress in a futile attempt to rid it of the accumulated dirt from her makeshift rock seat.

      “I’m sorry Father, I didn’t realise the time,” Élise apologised.

      “Did Arno not tell you I requested your return to the estate at once?”

     “Yes, he did, but-”

      “Then regardless of whether or not you were aware of the time, surely you should have come immediately.”

     “Yes Father.” Élise bowed her head in submission.

      François eyed his daughter up and down, before exasperatedly announcing. “And you’re not even ready. We cannot be late. We are representing the De La Serre family.”

      “I will be quick Father, I promise.” Élise said, gathering the skirt of her dress in her hands and rushing past him towards the estate.

      “Fifteen minutes, Élise.” François called after her.

      “Yes Father.” Élise replied over her shoulder, slightly breathless from her fast-paced walk.

       Behind her, Élise could hear her Father’s deep voice chastising Arno. She grimaced, feeling a little guilty for leaving him to receive the brunt of her Father’s temper, when in fact it was all her fault.

      “Sorry, Arno.” Élise whispered under her breath.

***

     The meeting of the Estates General was a waste of time as far as Élise was concerned, and she could think of no positives that today had brought.

     It was just more of the same; the King saying the wrong thing, and then other men in power saying the wrong thing. It went on for hours, and even Élise, who aimed to ensure she listened intently to everything that was said, found herself tuning out when certain people just wouldn’t stop talking.

    As expected, all of this resulted in the Third Estate becoming increasingly restless. Élise could feel the tension building in the air as the minutes ticked by, and at the end of the meeting, she shared a hopeless glance with her Father, both of them knowing that the country was changing into something that would not be so simple to reverse.

      Élise didn’t dare approach the subject of inviting Arno to her initiation ceremony again. Her Father was still angry with her for her blatant disregard of his orders earlier this afternoon, and she didn’t want to anger him further. Élise wanted to remember this day as a special one, as the day that she, Élise De La Serre, was finally instated into the Templar Order after thirteen years of waiting patiently. Or perhaps not so patiently.

      Later that night, after a slightly heated debate between herself and her Father regarding Élise’s failure to indoctrinate Arno into the Templar Order, Élise stood in her room, wringing her hands, with a sudden surge of anxiety running through her veins. She ran her clammy hands over the frills of her dark velvet dress for the one hundredth time to try and dry them.

       Élise looked down to her dress and sighed. Even though it was beautiful, it wasn’t one she would have chosen herself. Élise wouldn’t have picked any kind of dress. She would have quite happily attended her initiation ceremony in breeches and a shirt. Her Father had bought her the dress especially though, and so when he presented it to her, she had faked a smile and gushed about how much she loved it so as to not hurt his feelings.

      There was a light but firm knock on Élise’s door.

     “Yes?” Élise shouted.

     “Are you decent, my dear?” François’ voice travelled through the door.

     “Yes.”

      The door opened to reveal François dressed formally in a black suit, shiny shoes, and a grey wig. He stood in the doorway with his back straight, and stance professional.

     “Are you ready?” he asked his daughter.

     Élise attempted to smile at her Father, but she could not hide her nerves, and the smile vanished within seconds.

      “Father, I’m so scared,” whispered Élise, her voice that of a small child who pined for their parent to reassure them everything would be alright.

       François’ brow furrowed, and for a moment, Élise believed he was going to tell her to stop being ridiculous. Instead, his face softened as he stepped into her room, closing the door behind him.

      “Oh Élise.” François took his daughter’s hand and led her over to sit on the edge of her bed. “There is no need to be scared, this night is what we have been waiting for since the day your Mother and I told you of your future. I thought you were excited?”

     “I am.” Élise nodded. “Well, I was…it seems my nerves have got the better of me.” 

     “What is there to be nervous about?”

    “Everything.” Élise sighs. “What if I do something wrong? Or say something idiotic?”

      François reached up and placed a hand on Élise’s cheek, giving her a sympathetic smile.

     “You won’t, and even if you did, I would still be ever so proud of you. So would your Mother.”

       Élise’s eyes began to shine with tears. She felt overwhelmingly touched by her Father’s words. She knew he cared for her, but he didn’t often say such affectionate things, so Élise never took the moments for granted.

     “Thank you,” she said quietly.

     “Now, are you ready?” François asked again, removing his hand from Élise’s cheek and patting her knee.

      “As I’ll ever be,” Élise answered.

      But Élise was not prepared at all for what would happen on that fateful night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Also, I apologize for any mistakes but I have tried my best to find them all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter directly follows on from the last on Elise's initiation night. I'll still be following the main plot of the game/novel, so a few things will be similar, but I'll be taking the story in my own direction from now on. Hope you like it.

     The night of Élise’s initiation ceremony did not go as expected, even though it had started just fine, and seemed to be going quite splendidly.

     Élise wasn’t at all bothered by the reaction of her fellow Templars when her Father presented her with her own Templar pin, officially instating her into the Order. She had glanced around the other faces in the room, and even in the shadows she could see them staring at her with envy, looking like they had a mouthful of sour grapes.   

      Élise also wasn’t bothered that everyone seemed to have an opinion of her at her private soirée after the ceremony. She heard them all gossiping as she walked through the magnificent ballroom with grand chandeliers twinkling above her and a floor so shiny she could she her reflection in it. Élise could hear the whispers that the ladies exchanged behind their decorative fans, and it made her quite smug how their lovers often nodded in response, yet still gave Élise a look of desire.

       An hour or so of the same mind-numbing drivel went by and Élise was quickly growing tired of having to keep a smile on her face for the sake of appearance. Just as she was wondering when this party would finally draw to a close, she spotted him.

       It was a pleasant surprise to see Arno in the middle of the ballroom watching her. She had partly expected him to find out about the soirée, but she was most impressed that he had somehow managed to infiltrate his way past the multitude of guards and security surrounding the palace.

      Her mouth twitched into a sly smile as she led him through the ballroom, dodging the partygoers, glancing back every so often, checking that he was still hot on her heels. When Arno eventually caught up to Élise, he didn’t seem annoyed at her failure to invite him like she thought he might, and was simply pleased to see Élise, as was she him.

      They shared a brief kiss, both wanting it to last beyond what it did, but they were cut-short by a loud knock on the door of the room they were hiding in. Guards shouted through the door that they were searching for an interloper, causing Élise to smirk at Arno for the commotion he had caused. Clearly he was lacking in guile on his way into the palace.

       Élise sent Arno out of the window, and as she watched him leave, she smiled, for she had no idea of what bleak and heart-breaking events were to ensue.

***

       There are a couple of things Élise wished she could alter in her life. She wished she could change her decision regarding not informing Arno of Juliette, and she also wished that she could snap her fingers and the Templars and Assassins would not be so hostile towards each other. On the night of Élise’s initiation she gained a new wish, that being that after the ceremony she had never left her Father’s side.

      As the clock struck midnight, Élise was curled up on her bed back at the De La Serre Estate sobbing her heart out, and she didn’t intend to move for the rest of the night. After arriving back at the estate, she had screamed at anyone who dared to come near her, unable to keep her emotions in check due to the atrocity that had happened.

     That fateful night, Francois De La Serre was murdered. Worse still, Arno had been accused of being the criminal. Élise didn’t want to believe it, and no matter how much she tried, she could not come up with a reason as to why Arno would do such a thing.

     Élise felt regretful that she had not done more to stop Arno from being arrested, but she wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to be arguing with guards. In fact, she would have probably ended up being arrested herself if she had confronted any person with military power just after her Father’s murder. Her emotions were running too high, the tipping point of her sanity long passed.

      Élise knew that Arno would be taken to the Bastille, and as she travelled back to the De La Serre estate alone, she silently promised Arno that she would go and speak to someone about his release the following morning when she felt able to leave the estate. Or rather if she felt able to leave the estate.

        Élise didn’t even attempt to let sleep take her in its clutches. She was sure if she did sleep, it would be plagued with nightmares of her Father dying. The fact that she wasn’t even there when it happened made it all the more unbearable. She wasn’t by her Father’s side holding his hand as he died. He had gone without saying goodbye. He had left her so suddenly.

     At least with her Mother, she saw her deterioration as death slowly overtook her sick body. As much as Élise had wished for her Mother to get better, even as an eight-year-old girl, she wasn’t that naïve. She knew once a certain weakness was reached, there was no bouncing back to life.

     Her Father though, well, she had seen her Father fit and alive earlier that night. Then only a couple of hours later she had heard the shout of one of the guards saying he was dead.

     Élise had rushed to his lifeless body, and clung to it, burying her face in his chest, willing his lungs to fill with air, and his heart to drum its beat once more. She had looked up briefly as they dragged an unconscious Arno away, but any protests she considered in relation to her beloved being arrested evaporated on her tongue when she glanced down once more at her Father’s still body.

***

      In the early hours of the morning, when Élise’s sobs finally quietened, she rose from her bed, still in her ceremony dress that her Father bought for her. Suddenly, her love for this dress was not false at all, and the velvet attire had turned into something she would cherish forever.

      She quickly changed out of the dress, folding it carefully, and storing it in a drawer. Then she dressed in something more suited to the real Élise, not the fancy Élise who enjoyed high-class parties and mingling with aristocracy. That was all just an act. She pulled on a pair of grey breeches, and slipped into a white long-sleeved shirt, tucking it into her breeches.

      Stood in the middle of her bedchamber, Élise hugged her upper arms and took slow and deep breaths. Her chest hurt from crying, her eyelids felt like they were swollen to three times their usual size, and her throat was dry.

      She wished Arno was here. Élise needed him to hold her, and whisper soothing words, and help fight off some of the crippling grief that had completely taken over her mind.

       Élise ended up wandering bare-foot through the estate. There was no one to tell her it was inappropriate of her to not be wearing footwear, and she doubted anyone would dare do so anyway. The staff will probably be frightful of her after all of the threats she made earlier to get them to leave her alone.

     She made her way to her Father’s office, knowing that being surrounded by his things would break her already fragile heart, but would hopefully bring some comfort along with the pain.

     As Élise pushed open the office door with bated breath, something fluttered along the floor, catching her eye. She bent down and saw that it was a sealed envelope. Obviously someone had left it for her Father for him to read on his return. He would never get the chance to do so now.

      Élise walked forward and placed the unopened envelope on her Father’s desk, alongside all of his other paperwork. She spotted something written in her Father’s handwriting, and ran a finger over the sophisticated looping letters. She wasn’t particularly reading what the words said, it just brought her comfort to touch the ink that her Father had so carefully guided across the paper. At the bottom, in the right hand corner, was the Templar cross. Élise ran her finger over that too, until her breath caught in her throat and it dawned on her that with her Father dead and her being newly initiated into the order, she would become Grand Master a lot sooner than she thought.

      Élise’s heart hammered in her chest, and she stumbled backwards until her spine hit the wall. She wasn’t ready for such a commitment. Yes, she had almost thirteen years of training under her belt, but the advancement to Grand Master was supposed to be far in the future and would be under her Father’s guidance, not rushed in a few days because of a tragic occurrence.

      She stepped forward and gripped onto the back of the wooden chair at her Father’s desk and pulled it out, scraping it along the floor before taking a seat, her jelly-like legs unable to uphold her body any longer. Élise placed her elbows on the desk and cradled her head in her hands. She was terrified. She was terrified for herself, for poor Arno locked up in the Bastille, but mostly for her little girl.

     Of course, Élise knew that following in her Father’s footsteps would exacerbate the chance of her Order finding out about Juliette, she had always known that, but she had always assumed that her Father would be there to help her keep things hidden. Now, she was on her own.  A multitude of responsibility had been placed upon her shoulders, and she had no choice but to accept it if she was to avoid disappointing her Father.

      Élise gasped as she peered through her fingers and saw that silent tears had fallen onto the sheet of paper below, smudging her Father’s writing. She quickly sat back so as not to do any further damage and sighed, realising she was already ruining everything.

    “What am I going to do without you?” she whispered, causing her salty tears to find their way into her parted lips.

      Élise suddenly felt very alone. She had lost her Mother, she had lost her Father, and Arno had been taken from her. All she had left was little Juliette, and she wasn’t here. Élise closed her eyes and wished for Juliette to come running into the room and hold Élise tightly. Juliette wouldn’t really understand why her Mama was crying, but she would provide her with more comfort than she could ever know.  

       That thought made up Élise’s mind, she needed to see Juliette. She would come back later today or the following day and help Arno, but for now, she needed to cuddle her daughter.

      She rose from the chair, and after wiping her face with her sleeve her gaze landed on the envelope that she had retrieved from the floor.  Élise was well aware that she should not open letters that were addressed to other people, but did it count if the recipient was dead? As Francois De La Serre’s daughter, by default all of his correspondence would now be sent to her anyway.

        After arguing in her own mind for far too long over the morals of opening the envelope, her curiosity eventually got the better of her. What Élise read made her feel light headed and she had to cling on to her Father’s wooden desk for support, to stop her knees from buckling. The letter was a warning for her Father – a warning that someone within the order was plotting against him, and for him to be on his guard.

      Élise felt nauseous. The envelope was sealed, meaning her Father never set eyes upon this warning that could have possibly saved his life.

       She stormed from the office, slamming the door behind her. She was on a warpath to find out who delivered the letter. She felt so much fury towards whoever had failed her Father, to whoever had risked her Father’s life, and to whoever had indirectly killed him.

     Once she found the culprit, with her behaviour nothing but erratic, she really had no idea what she would do to them.

***

      It was Arno. It was Arno that should have delivered the letter to her Father.

      Élise had banged on the different bedchamber doors belonging to the staff of the De La Serre estate until she found her answer. She was greeted with groggy and slightly annoyed faces, but none knew about the letter she waved under their noses.  The frustration grew within her, as Élise became tired of coming up against dead ends, until Olivier.

     Olivier informed her that he had seen Arno with said letter, and in that moment, Élise’s world came crashing down around her for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

***

      What Élise did next would have no doubt disappointed her Father, but she couldn’t face her problems, and so she ran away from them. She left all of her responsibilities as Grand Master behind and travelled to Saint-Cyr with no intention of returning to the De La Serre estate any time soon.

      She tried to ignore the thought of Arno rotting in the Bastille, but often failed. Even though she thought of him, not once did she consider conversing with anyone in regards to helping free him. Élise’s resentment towards the man she loved still simmered quietly within her, and she felt that he deserved to be punished.

       There was one problem however; the Assassin’s had knowledge of Arno. Élise had received correspondence from her acquaintance from London, Jennifer Scott.  According to her, there was a high-ranked Assassin already in the Bastille with Arno, and he knew of Arno’s ‘talents’ whatever that meant.

      Élise told herself she didn’t care, and that the Assassins could have Arno. But she did care. She hated him, but deep down she still felt love for him. She felt like he had betrayed her, and she wanted to hurt him, yet she didn’t want them to become enemies. But Élise knew in the end even she could not change Arno’s destiny. She has had years to bring him over to the Templar Order and she refused to do so, and she knew this would happen eventually, though dealing with it actually happening was a completely different matter.

       After the loss of her Father and the betrayal she felt from her lover, the one place Élise found solace was with her daughter; the only person she unconditionally loved.

        Juliette didn’t understand why her Mama had started to cry herself to sleep most nights. She didn’t understand why her Mama never smiled anymore either - not with her teeth anyway -which is what Juliette thought a real smile should be.

      Élise would often cling to Juliette’s tiny body like she would slip away from her any moment, and it began to rather annoy the young girl. She would often have to squirm her way from her Mama’s grip so she could go and play, because while Juliette enjoyed cuddling, she didn’t want to do it _all_ the time.

      Élise’s maternal instinct for Juliette manifested into an obsession.  She panicked if she didn’t know where the little girl was at all times of the day and if Élise woke in the night, she would tiptoe to her daughter’s room and climb into bed beside her. She had to be sure Juliette was okay.

       “We’re safe here,” Mr. Weatherall constantly told Élise, but she couldn’t quite believe it.

      After what happened in London with the Carrolls, she had feared for Juliette’s safety, but now, she was terrified. Someone her Father had trusted had turned against him, and murdered him. How was Élise to know who she could and could not trust? If they killed her Father, she would put money on them wanting her dead too.

     During her time at Maison Royale, Élise quickly felt herself descend into a pit of anxiety and irrationality. She would jump at any sudden noise, she would stare out the windows of the groundskeepers lodge for hours, not sure what she was waiting for, but waiting all the same.

***

      “Maybe I could take Juliette on a trip somewhere?” Mr. Weatherall suggested one day.

      Élise stared at him like he had just grown back his missing leg.

     “Have you lost your mind?!” she exclaimed at her protector.

     “It’s not good for her being around you when you’re like this,” Mr. Weatherall said gently.

     “Like what?! There’s nothing wrong with me!”

      “You’re losing your mind, Élise.”

      Élise turned away from the older man, crossing her arms and refusing to converse with him any further. She was hurt by his words, but not because they were unkind but more so because she knew they were true.

       It wasn’t the first time he had suggested taking Juliette on a trip, but Élise had always felt she was far too young, even after Mr. Weatherall rightly pointed out to Élise that it wasn’t fair to keep the girl locked up in a school, and that she needed to explore and see the world, just as Élise had done as a girl when she was younger.

      If things would have gone smoother when Élise visited London last year then maybe she would have reconsidered, but if anything that venture just made her even more paranoid.

     Originally Élise wasn’t even supposed to go to London, Mr. Weatherall had told her to stay put, and even though Élise wasn’t best pleased about being away from her daughter for a short while, she had to go. She had hoped to find Ruddock there, the man who was behind the attack on Élise and her own Mother all those years ago. That horrid man had occupied Élise’s nightmares since she was a little girl, and even after all this time, she still wished to have revenge upon him for his attempt on her Mother’s life.

      Before she had left for London, she wondered what she would do to Ruddock, and she felt more than uneasy with herself due to the dark possibilities that crossed her mind. One thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to look him in the eye and ask him _why._  

      The trip was an absolute disaster though with Élise almost losing her life, and Mr. Weatherall getting shot, resulting in his leg being badly wounded. The only positives that had come from Élise’s visit to London were her friendship with Hélène, whom she met on the journey there, and her obtainment of several letters belonging to Jennifer Scott. The letters gave Élise a newfound hope in a matter that was closer to her heart than most.  She realised that she was not alone with her desire for peace between Templars and Assassins, and that others preceding her had possessed similar ideals.

      Of course, Élise has now managed to ruin that too, because for her to have any chance of bridging a gap between the two opposing sides, she would have to take back the reigns of her responsibilities as Grand Master, something she hadn’t quite worked up the courage to do.

      She was well aware that the estate in Versailles and the chateau in Paris had fallen into a state of disrepair. The letters that arrived from the dwindling staff members at each location told her so. Élise wished to put things right, to fix everything, but she was still struggling with the grief for her Father, more than she would like to admit.

      Every night she told herself that she would make her Father proud and return to her duties the following day, but the following day never seemed to arrive.

***

     “Mama,” Juliette said, trying to get Élise’s attention.

      It was late morning, Élise and her daughter were having a ‘tea party’ and Élise had become lost in her thoughts like always.

      “Mama,” Juliette repeated, crossing her arms in annoyance at being ignored.

     Élise had that vacant look in her eyes as she stared at nothing in particular. Juliette didn’t understand what her Mama was doing when she looked like that, but she had figured out that a simple poke to her Mama’s shoulder would bring back her attention, and Juliette did just that.

       Élise blinked twice, coming back to reality from her daze. Her eyes rested on her daughter’s pout. It was the same pout she had seen so many times on Arno.

      “You were not listening to me, Mama.”

       “Oh darling, I was.” Élise reached out for her daughter, rubbing her tiny arm gently.

      “You were not,” Juliette said, accusingly. “You didn’t drink your tea.”

       Élise sighed. “I’m sorry.”

      She turns her attention to the miniature tea cup and proceeds to pretend to drink the invisible tea. Juliette eyes her Mama carefully, ensuring she has tasted the ‘tea’ before she asks.

      “Is it good?”

      “It’s wonderful.” Élise smiled, but it was still not a real smile to Juliette, she still couldn’t see any of her Mama’s teeth. _Maybe one day soon_ , Juliette thought to herself.

      Juliette plopped herself back down on the floor and began chattering about nonsense that Élise soon lost track of, but she ensured she drank each cup of tea that was poured for her, not wanting to see disappointment in her daughter’s eyes again.

***

         “I’m going to visit Arno.” Élise announced out of the blue one afternoon while her and Mr. Weatherall shared a pot of real tea and some cake that Hélène had made. The sun was just setting in the sky, casting an orange glow throughout the homely lodge. Hélène and Jacques had taken Juliette for an afternoon stroll, and although Élise was on tenterhooks waiting for their return, she was grateful for the alone time it gave her to spend with her protector.

       It had been several weeks since Arno had been arrested and locked up in the Bastille, and as much as Élise had tried to forget about him, she just couldn’t. She couldn’t muster enough hatred to drown the love she felt for Arno. Love had finally prevailed in the war taking place in her mind between resenting Arno and yearning for him.

       “Well, it’s about bloody time,” Mr. Weatherall muttered, shoving another mouthful of cake into his mouth. “What made you change your mind?”

      “Nothing,” Élise answered. Mr. Weatherall shot her a questioning look, to which she shrugged. “I didn’t have to change my mind. I just had to admit to myself what I truly wanted all along.”

      “I’m glad you figured that out,” Mr. Weatherall said with sincerity.

      “Well, I have had a lot of time to think about things.”

      “Do you plan on telling him about the letter he failed to deliver to your Father?”

     “Yes.” Élise nodded, and then leaned backwards in her chair. “I am also going to tell him about Juliette.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I added in quite a bit of my own interpretation of what happened during/after Elise's Father died, as I wanted to explore it a bit more than the novel did. I also changed things in that Elise doesn't go on a downward spiral with drinking because I don't believe she would do that in my story due to having a daughter depending on her.  
> Thank you for taking the time to read and feel free to leave a comment if you would like :)


	4. Chapter 4

     “Are you mad?” Mr. Weatherall exclaimed.

     “I can assure you I am not,” Élise replied.

     “Where has this come from?” the older man enquired. He pushed the plate containing his half eaten piece of cake away from him.

      Élise wet her lips and looked down at the table. “I’ve been considering it for a while now.”

     “Do you hope that telling him about Juliette will stop him from joining the Assassins?”

      Élise looks away, crossing her arms and glared at the wall. “No, of course not.”

      “If anything that will push him towards the Creed, he’ll feel betrayed by you and will look for something to give him relief, and the Assassins will seem like the perfect solution to that.”

      “Yes, I know that,” Élise replied sighing and letting her shoulders sag. “I don’t intend to tell him to stop him joining the Creed. I intend to tell him because I…” Élise looks up to the ceiling and inhales deeply.

      “Because you what?”

     Élise sighs as she stands up from her chair, before she proceeds to pace around the kitchen slowly. “My Father’s death made me re-think everything. I realised how much we take this thing called life for granted. One day I will be gone, and I will have to leave Juliette behind. One day Arno will be gone too.”

      Mr. Weatherall blinks a few times, surprised by the sudden morbid turn in Élise’s attitude. “Death is a part of life though, Élise, it happens to everyone.”

      “Yes I am aware of that,” Élise stops pacing and crosses her arms again. “But there’s death, and then there is what happened to my Father,” she said as she stepped back and leant against one of the countertops. “I know you keep telling me we are safe here but we are not. We will never be truly safe, not anywhere. No one is.”

      Mr. Weatherall’s confused expression slowly melts into one of sympathy towards the young woman in front of him. She has had so much pressure placed upon her shoulders in her short life, far too much in his opinion.

       “Back when I first found out about Juliette, I honestly did believe that if I kept quiet about her, it would keep her away from harm, but looking back, it’s clear I was an ignorant sixteen-year-old living in a fantasy world,” Élise said bitterly. “My Father was murdered by someone he had placed his trust in, and he didn’t even see it coming. I could be killed tomorrow for all I know.”

      “Don’t say that,” Mr. Weatherall gasped.

      “It’s the truth though, Mr. Weatherall, same goes for Arno, and if something were to happen to him he would die having no knowledge of his daughter,” Élise said, causing Mr. Weatherall to look down to the floor gloomily. “It makes me feel ill thinking that Juliette would never see her Father’s face, or feel his embrace, or hear his voice.”

      Mr. Weatherall surveys Élise carefully. The rise and fall of her shoulders and the way she is biting her bottom lip makes it obvious how anxious she is. He doesn’t particularly want to say anything to raise her anxiety, but he needs to be sure she has thought this through.

      “Élise, you need to remember that the boy will most likely not take it well, as much as you think he loves you-”

      “He does love me,” Élise interrupted him, causing Mr. Weatherall to give her a cautionary glare. “Sorry,” she apologised.

      “Regardless of that, this won’t be easy for him to forgive. I just want you to make sure you’ve considered that.”

      “I have.” Élise nodded. “And I’m prepared for the worst, but I need him to know.”

     Mr. Weatherall narrows his eyes, causing creases to appear in the corners.

      “This isn’t some sort of revenge for the part you believe he played in your Father’s death is it?”

      “What?!” Élise exclaimed, her eyes blazing with irritation. “Of course not!”

     “Okay.” Mr. Weatherall held his hands up in a surrendering action. “I was just asking.”

     “I would never use Juliette as a form of revenge,” Élise told him, a little hurt that he would think such a thing.

      “You’re right, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

      Élise nodded, accepting his apology. “It’s true that I did want revenge for what Arno did because I hated him so much.” Her whole body sunk as if an invisible weight is pushing down upon her. “But it seems that I love him more, and as hard as I try, I cannot stop loving him. Any thoughts of revenge have been overruled by my feelings.”

      Mr. Weatherall reaches up to his face and begins stroking his white beard. He wants to tell Élise that the last thing she needs to be thinking about right now is love, but the older man also reminds himself that Élise has lost two of the people that she cared about most. Even though she would never admit it, she most likely yearns for love more than most, because she has so much love to give in return. Of course, even a fool would be able to see how devoted Élise is to little Juliette and how much love she has for the little girl, but Mr. Weatherall didn’t realise just how much Élise cared for Arno until recently.

     “Do you think I am doing the right thing in telling him?’’ Élise asked after Mr. Weatherall had been quiet for too long.

      “I think…” Mr. Weatherall sighed. “You know what, it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s your decision.”

     “That’s not an answer,” Élise retorted, looking down and scuffing the floor with the toe of her boot.

     “I will support you in what you wish to do Élise, but I’m not going to tell you what I believe you should do because this isn’t a matter I have the right to advise you on,” Mr. Weatherall replied.

    The older man had no intention of saying anything that could influence the young woman before him. This had to be her decision.

       Élise lifts her head and looks over to Mr. Weatherall. “Do you think he will ever forgive me for what I did?”

      “I don’t know Élise. He’ll find it hard, yes, but if he loves you as much as you love him, then…”

      Élise feels the tiny glimmer of hope due to Mr. Weatherall’s words, but she quickly dismisses any thought of Arno forgiving her. Better not to even consider the possibility, and then she won’t be disappointed.

      “It doesn’t matter, I’m not doing this for myself anyway. I’m doing it for Juliette, so that she has a Father, and someone else who can protect her. I can’t do this alone anymore, even if Arno is an Assassin and me a…Templar.’’ Élise lingers on the last word.

     Yes, she is a Templar by birth, but is she truly one by belief? Is she planning on taking back control of the Order for herself or for her Father? Could it be that the death of her Father was making her feel she _had_ to take back control? She couldn’t answer those questions right now, but one thing she knew for sure was that if she shied away from the Order, she would never have a chance to bridge the gap between Assassins and Templars, which is something she still passionately believed in.

     Élise secretly hoped for a future where Juliette wouldn’t have to choose between the two sides of her heritage, because the two sides would be at peace. She knew it was quite impossible that kind of future would ever exist, but she had to try to help create it, or she would never know.

     “Well, if you’re sure this is what you want, then I will support you,” Mr. Weatherall said, distracting Élise from her thoughts.

      “It is. I’ve made my mind up. I’m doing what I should have done years ago.”

     “There was a reason you didn’t though, Élise. Don’t beat yourself up over your past decisions.”

     “What? You mean because I was scared? Because I let my Father’s fears become my own too? I should have realised that Juliette would never be completely safe, and that she would be safer with two parents than just one,” Élise sighed. “Oh if I could go back now, I would shake myself and tell myself that I need Arno, I need him by my side, Assassin or not…but now I can’t have him because of an imprudent choice I made, and no matter what I do next I can’t win.” Élise paused for a moment, and shook her head hopelessly. “I either continue being with him and carrying on with the lies until the guilt becomes too much and I have to leave him meaning he will still be unwise to his daughter, or I tell him about Juliette knowing he may never forgive me. Either way will most likely end up with me losing him for good. Why did I let myself get into such a predicament?’’

     “Because at the time you did it to protect your daughter, Élise, and there’s nothing quite like the love between a Mother and her child.” Mr. Weatherall attempts to abate some of Élise’s distress, but he could tell she wasn’t really taking on board what he was saying.

    “And what of the love between me and Arno? Shouldn’t that have been enough to make me want to tell him the truth?”

      “You’re not listening to me, Élise,’’ Mr. Weatherall says, his tone becoming increasingly exasperated due to Élise’s relentless stubbornness. “I understand you loved Arno, and still love him, but you hid Juliette from Arno for a reason that at the time you believed to be true. You did it to protect her, and that was understandably more important to you than your love for Arno.’’

      Élise feels a tickling on her cheek and reaches up to feel a lone tear rolling down it. She didn’t even realise she had started crying.

     “Understandably? Really? You think Arno will see it that way?”

     Mr. Weatherall pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Their conversation had started going around in circles with no end in sight.

    “I’m not saying what you did was right. I’m not saying what you did was wrong either. What I’m saying is that you did what you _thought_ was right at the time. You didn’t do it to be malicious and vindictive, you did it out of love for your daughter.”

      “Arno might not see it that way though.”

      Mr. Weatherall shrugged exasperatedly and held his hands out in front of him. “I don’t know that, you don’t know that, heck, he probably won’t even know what he thinks at first, but that’s just something you’re going to have to face.” Mr. Weatherall calms his tone a little before speaking again. “You have considered the risks involved with telling him though haven’t you, Élise?”

     “Yes.” Élise whispers. “But the situation is quite different to what it was when Juliette was born. I believe Arno will provide her with more protection than he will cause her danger.”

     “And if the Assassins gain knowledge of her?”

     “They won’t,” Élise answered shakily, unable to hide her fear on the matter.

     “Élise…”

     “Mr. Weatherall!” Élise snapped as she stood up straighter and clenched her hands into fists. “Arno needs to know of his daughter. It isn’t right and it isn’t fair what I am doing to either of them.”

      “Alright.” Mr. Weatherall resigned. It was clear Élise had made her mind up on this one, and one thing her protector knew was that when she set her mind on something, she followed it through.

      The room falls silent for a moment as Élise watches the older man delve into deep thought over something.

     “What is it?’’

     “I just hope Arno provides you with the help you need.”

     “The help _I_ need?”

     Mr. Weatherall beckoned for Élise to come closer to him. She hesitated a moment before doing so, walking over to him and taking the seat next to him. He leaned towards her and lowered his voice as if he is about to divulge something secretive.

    “Without your Father, I worry for you Élise. You have so much pressure on your shoulders and despite what you say, you’re not coping,” Mr. Weatherall said with sadness. Élise opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it, realising he was right. “You said it yourself Élise, you need him. As much as I believe you are the strongest young woman I’ve ever known, even you need help sometimes.”

     “I didn’t mean I needed his help, and rather…” Élise stopped mid-sentence. What did she mean? “I just need him to be a Father for Juliette, there’s no reason for him to want to help _me_ after I tell him I’ve been lying to him for years.”

     “Well I can think of one reason,” Mr. Weatherall replied. Élise shot him a confused look to which he said. “He loves you.”

      Élise shrugged, dismissing what Mr. Weatherall had said. “I just pray that he doesn’t turn Juliette away because of my idiocy.”

      “Arno doesn’t strike me as the type to turn away his daughter, regardless of the situation. Yes, he will be angry to begin with, but he’ll come around.”

      Élise nodded as she began lightly tapping the table with her fingers nervously in a drumming action. One horrible fear she had considered was of Arno purposely telling the Creed of their daughter just to spite Élise, but she quickly realised that he is far too kind-hearted for that. Even though she hates to think that the Brotherhood may change her sweet Arno in some way, they could never take away the gentleness rooted at his core.

     “It’s been five years, Mr. Weatherall. Five years that I’ve lied to him.” Élise halted tapping the table with her fingers as she felt that familiar twist in her gut every time the thought of what she had done came back to her. “I just can’t spend the next five years doing exactly the same.”

      Mr. Weatherall reached out and patted her knee gently in a comforting manner. “You don’t have to.”

      Élise inhales deeply and exhales. This was really going to happen. She was really going to tell Arno of Juliette. She felt sick at just the thought of doing so, and hoped that some confidence would find her when the time came.

     “There is one more issue I have, aside from Arno,” Élise said.

     “What would that be?”

     “One thing my Father was correct in saying was that the Order will not take too kindly to a Grand Master who has a successor that is half-Assassin. Plus I haven’t exactly been the best example of a Grand Master as of late, and it is clear that someone within the Order has their target set on the De La Serre’s, which will include Juliette.”

     A sympathetic smile tugs at the corners of Mr. Weatherall’s mouth.

    “There is no reason for them to know of Juliette for now. You just focus on Arno, let me worry about figuring something out in relation to the Order.”

    “Thank you,” Élise said gratefully as she leans back in her chair, relieved to have that weight taken off her shoulders.

     Mr. Weatherall gives her a curt nod, and then ponders for a moment.

    “Élise, you do realise that Juliette may not want to be your successor?”

     Élise laughs shortly, though Mr. Weatherall can hear it is more of a nervous laugh than anything else. 

    “Yes, I have considered that once she is wise to her Assassin blood that she might grow up and join the Creed.”

      “And how does that make you feel?”

      “Indifferent,” Élise answered as calmly as she could, but the way she gripped onto the table until her knuckles turned white showed she was anything but calm. “If that’s what she wished to do then that is the path she shall take.”

      “Well that’s very noble of you.”

      Élise shoots her protector an unimpressed glance, though she quickly realises he is being most sincere.

      “Do you think I can ever pull the Order back in my favour?”

     “I told you not to worry about that for now.”

     “Humour me.”

      “If you truly wish to, then I believe you could,” Mr. Weatherall answered. “Though the question is, do you truly wish to take it back?”

       “I think that I do,” Élise answered, and then looked down ashamed. “I’ve just been so busy grieving, and worrying about Juliette, and debating what to do about Arno, I’ve…” she sighed. “I just wanted to forget about it all for a while, but that’s just made everything worse.”

      “Well when you get back from visiting Arno, we’ll start the wheels turning in gaining the trust of your Order again.”

      “Do you have any idea how we will do that?” Élise asked with a hopeful glint in her eye.

       “First thing I would suggest is contacting the only person I believe we can trust within the Order, the one who tried to warn your Father.”

      “Monsieur Lafreniere?”

      “Yes,” Mr. Weatherall nodded his head. “Now I wouldn’t advise mentioning the letter, but do ensure he knows of your eagerness to take control of the Order, if he is as loyal as we believe him to be then he could be of some help.”

      “Let us hope he doesn’t prove to be fruitless.”

      “Let’s hope not,” Mr. Weatherall said softly. “I’m also going to get you a lieutenant, someone we can trust, and someone who can help relieve some of the pressure you’re under.”

      Élise had no arguments there. She hated to admit it but she did feel under a lot of pressure with her Order, and it would be much appreciated to have someone to depend on in regards to her Templar duties.

       “And Élise, telling Arno about Juliette…” Mr. Weatherall reaches out and places his hand on top of Élise’s. “I sincerely wish for it to work out well for you.”

    “I hope so, Mr. Weatherall, I really hope so.”

***

       The night before Élise planned to leave for Paris she laid in bed tossing and turning, and ultimately failing to let sleep overtake her body.

     By the early morning hours, she was still awake, and had curled into a foetal position. Most of the night had been spent thinking about Arno, and thinking about the conversation she would have with him, and thinking about how he may react. Even though those thoughts had just made things worse and increased the nauseous feeling in her stomach, she couldn’t push them from her mind.

      Élise closed her eyes and tried to fill her head with the happier times between her and Arno, but that didn’t help either, for as soon as she thought of her memories after Juliette was born, their happy times became tainted with lies.

     After Juliette was born, their relationship took a certain shift that Arno could not comprehend. On Élise’s visits home after she became a Mother, while she and Arno kissed and fooled around, she constantly made up excuses when he tried to take things further.

       At first, Arno had accepted that Élise was tired, or that it was the wrong time of the month, or that her Father was home and he may hear them. Though as time went on, Arno began to become a little irritated with constantly being rejected by Élise, and gave in even trying to do anything more passionate with her, not wanting to hear any more excuses.

      Eventually, one summer evening as Élise lay in his arms contently, with her head on his chest, he abruptly asked her.

     “Did I do something wrong?’’

     Élise pulled out of Arno’s hold enough to turn her head towards him. “What? Why would you think that?’’

      “It’s just...’’ Arno felt his cheeks warm and Élise noticed they took on a pink tinge. Arno opened and closed his mouth a few times, avoiding her gaze, while trying to find the words to convey what he wished to say.

      “Just what?’’ Élise repeated, straightening her back even further, so that Arno’s hand slid down from her shoulder to the small of her back.

      Arno’s eyes met hers. “It’s been nearly two years, Élise.’’

      Élise frowned, not understanding what Arno was referring to, and Arno had to resist sighing at Élise’s oblivious reaction.

     “Since we…’’ Arno tilted his head to the side.

     He saw Élise’s eyes widen in realisation as she finally caught on to what he was saying.

     “Oh.’’

     “Oh?’’ Arno echoed. “Is that it?’’

     “What else do you want me to say, Arno?’’

      Arno felt his brow furrow. “I want you to tell me why you always refuse me.’’

      “I don’t always refuse you,’’ Élise snapped, a little too harshly. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

     “Those two years ago, did I do something wrong? Or hurt you in some way?’’ Arno questioned.

      “Of course not.’’ Élise leaned forward, placing a hand on his chest and patting it gently. “No, you were…you were perfect.’’

      “Then what Élise?”  Arno asked as Élise felt his chest vibrate beneath her hand as he spoke. “Because more than once you have brushed me off with the excuse your Father might hear us, when I knew he wasn’t even home, or that you were tired when you were nothing of the sort, and I know I’m a man, but even I know that women don’t have ‘ _the wrong time of the month’_ more than once a month.

      Élise turned her head away from Arno, and stared at her messy dressing table instead. Anything to avoid seeing the dejected look in Arno’s brown eyes.

      Arno reached out and placed a hand on top of the hand Élise had resting on his chest.

    “Élise, you can talk to me. Please, I just want an explanation. Is that too much to ask?’’

     “I didn’t realise I had to explain myself,’’ Élise whispered, still not looking at him.

     She closed her eyes as she heard her own tone and recognised how unfair she was being with Arno. Élise knew how lucky she was to have found love in someone like Arno. She knew that other men would never be as understanding and patient as him. Élise opened one eye to peek at Arno.

      “You don’t need to explain yourself,’’ Arno replied. “But I just thought that if something was wrong, or something was bothering you, that you might like to talk about it.’’

       Élise’s heart melted. What had she done to deserve Arno? She’d caused nothing but chaos in her teenage years. From misbehaving in school and causing her Father unneeded stress, to becoming pregnant and then proceeding to hide it from the Father of her child. She had done nothing to deserve something as sweet and wonderful as Arno in her life, yet she had been blessed regardless.

      For just a split second, as Arno’s expression implored Élise to open up to him, she almost did. It was one of those times where Élise almost let the words she swore she would never speak slip from her tongue.

     ‘Yo _u have a daughter’ -_ That’s what Élise wanted to say, but that’s exactly what Élise didn’t say.

      “I’m sorry,’’ Élise whispered, “I’m just scared.”

     “Scared of what?’’ Arno asked, and began running his thumb over her knuckles soothingly.

      Élise didn’t see why she shouldn’t tell him the truth, she would just have to omit certain details.

     “Of becoming pregnant,’’ she told him.

     That is not what Arno was expecting at all, and he failed to hide his surprise at her admission.

     “Well…I…we…’’ Arno stuttered. He knew that he was not doing a very good job at reassuring Élise, but what could he say? She had every right to be scared. There was a very real possibility of such a thing happening each and every time they made love. He selfishly hadn’t even considered it though, and his ignorance caused a ball of guilt to form in his chest. “We could be more careful.’’

      Élise raised an eyebrow, and Arno knew how ridiculous he sounded.

     “The majority of these so-called preventative methods are a load of rubbish, you do know that, right?’’ Élise said.

      Arno nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure he and Élise were on the same page with what she had said.

      “Can I ask you one thing though?’’ Arno questioned softly. Élise nodded in response. “Do you want a child with me someday?’’

       “Yes,’’ Élise answered without hesitation, giving him a small smile. Arno couldn’t hold back his grin.

     Unbeknown to Arno, Élise’s reply wasn’t instant because she desperately wanted a family with him, but rather that she already had a child with Arno, and every time she set eyes upon her daughter, she felt a wonderful rush of love. So yes, Élise wanted a child with Arno ‘someday’, it was just that ‘someday’ had already been and gone.

***

     The visit to Arno did not go as planned. It seemed nothing in Élise’s life ever went to plan anymore. She often wondered if some higher power was purposely punishing her for the mistakes she had made during her life.

      Élise arrived at the Bastille far too late. It was already in the process of being sieged by a mob of protestors. People were being killed left, right, and centre, cannons were fired, buildings had their windows smashed and were set alight, and eventually Élise accepted the fact that there was no way she would reach Arno before any of the enraged protestors sieged the prison.

      As she pushed her way through the crowds she tried to conjure up a plan of action in her head, but her ears were ringing from the shouts of attack and cannon fire, making it hard to think straight. She raised her head and felt her jaw drop as she set eyes on the exact person she was searching for.

      Arno was right there in front of her but completely out of reach. He stood on the highest point of the Bastille leaning over the edge and looking down. Élise watched open-mouthed as he stretched his arms out as far as they could go and tilted his body forward, and then seamlessly fell through the air with his toes pointed. Élise recognised the action immediately; a leap of faith. He was one of them now.

       It was in that moment that all Élise’s worries changed from a possibility to a reality. She knew it would happen, she knew she would lose him to the Creed one day, and yet what she had just witnessed made her want to slump to the floor and cry despite the chaos that surrounded her. She summoned all the strength she had within her and put a brave face on, turning from the Bastille and shoving her way back through the menacing and angry crowds, trying to ignore how her heart was breaking inside her chest.

***

      Élise managed to keep herself composed until she reached her chateau. She dismissed the only remaining staff member, the butler, Pierre, before creeping silently into the building despite Pierre’s warning that he feared there were bandits remaining inside.

     Upon entering the chateau, Élise glanced around the entrance hall and saw no immediate danger. While she did spot two burly men, it was doubtful they would give her any trouble. The one nearest her was face down on the floor, and the other was resting against the corner of the room, both appeared to be passed out due to intoxication. Élise was sure she could easily take on the two drunken brutes if they decided to try her. She looked between the both of them multiple times, but they both remained relatively still, only their chests moved with each light snore that escaped their bodies.

      When Élise finally moved her focus to the rest of the room she felt her heart sink in her chest. While she knew that the building had been neglected, she was not at all prepared for the sight that greeted her. She had expected it to be run-down to some extent, but she never imagined it would look like _this._

 Everything was ruined. The tables and chairs were out of place and missing legs, not one vase remained in an unbroken state, glass littered the floor from smashed windows, and a trail of her family’s possessions laid strewn across the floor and up the staircase.

      This wasn’t right. This wasn’t her home. This wasn’t the place she had made so many happy memories.

     Élise rushed up the staircase, careful not to tread on any of her family’s belongings beneath her feet. She had thought upstairs may be in a better state, but it wasn’t. Room after room she visited, her hope slowly dwindling with each door she opened. Everywhere was in the same vandalized state, all with broken furniture, and all with precious things missing.

      She entered her bedchamber last and found herself barely able to look at the contents of the room. While most of her important possessions remained in Saint-Cyr, there were still many things here in Paris that she valued, or at least, there used to be. Now, everything that had any sentimental value to Élise was ruined, or had been stolen.

     Élise walked slowly to her bed, and sat down on the ruined sheets, the bedframe creaking beneath her weight due to its damaged state. She couldn’t hold it together any longer. All her strength felt like it was sucked from her body in an instant. She flung a hand to her mouth as she broke down, her muffled sobs shattering the deafening silence of the cold and lonely chateau that was once so full of life and laughter, the destroyed atmosphere of the building reflecting Élise’s current mentality.

***

        The only thing on Arno’s mind after he escaped the Bastille was Élise. The first place he thought she might be was the chateau that belonged to her family, conveniently very close to his location.

      He had sprinted away from the prison he had spent his last two months within, and found himself absolutely mortified at the destruction that he passed on his journey. Things had certainly changed a lot in the time he had been locked up.

      Half-way to the chateau, Arno had slowed to a fast walk, and caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby window. He glanced down to the rags covering his body that could hardly even pass for clothes. Arno fretted for a moment before reminding himself that Élise wouldn’t mind, she was never one to judge on appearances, and she would just be glad to see him. Or so he thought.

      Upon reaching the De La Serre chateau, he could immediately tell that something wasn’t quite right, and as he cautiously approached the building alarm bells were ringing inside his head that danger was lurking ahead. However, his suspicions didn’t make him turn around, and his speed quickened at the thought of any harm coming to Élise if she was within the building.

       Arno reached the main door and pushed it open gently, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the chateau. His heart skipped a beat as he saw two stocky figures stood directly in front of him staring up the staircase. They both turned in synchronisation sensing someone had entered the building, and from the angry frowns on their faces it was evident neither were happy to see him.

        Arno’s hand shot out to the hilt of his sword, gripping it tightly, readying himself for the fight he was sure was about to ensue.

      The two men laughed at Arno as they began their approach, like two hungry wolves closing in on their prey.

      “Well who do we have here then?” The man on the right said with his accomplice trailing a couple of steps behind him.

      “I could ask you the same question,” Arno retorted.

      “I asked you first,” the same man said again.

      Now they were closer, Arno could see the one speaking was the older of the two, with his hair greyer and his face more weathered than his lackey.

       Arno still didn’t give the men the privilege of knowing his name and instead swiftly pulled his sword from his side holding it out defensively in front of him. The men each took a step back, surprised at Arno’s rapid movements, but quickly composed themselves, pulling their pistols out of their holsters and grinning widely once more, as if this was all a game to them.

        It was obvious Arno was outnumbered, not only that, if he cut one of the men down, the other was sure to shoot, but he was certain anymore hesitation on his part would end up with him dead anyway.

      Arno took a deep breath, turning his body slightly to the left preparing to strike.  Just as he lifted his sword a loud bang rang out in the chateau, distracting Arno and his two enemies. For a moment, Arno froze, wondering if he had been shot, but he felt no pain, and when he glanced down to his body, he saw no blood.

     He snapped his gaze back to the two men, only something was quite different about the older one. A red stain was slowly enlarging on the left side of his chest; he had been shot. Arno searched the room with his eyes for the shooter, and he quickly saw Élise stood at the top of the staircase with a pistol in her hand. He smiled, even though she wasn’t looking at him.

     The wounded man fell to his knees in front of Arno with his hands desperately clawing at the wound as if that would somehow stop the fatal bleeding. Arno looked to the man’s sidekick, who was completely astounded by the sudden turn of events, and too distracted to notice that he was Élise’s next target.

     Another bang, another wound, another dead bandit.

     Arno took a moment to regulate his erratic breaths, and then he turned towards the staircase, smiling up to Élise.

      “Élise…” he said, filled with joy at seeing her again.

      “Arno,” she replied, much less enthusiastic than him.

       She began descending the stairs slowly, never taking her eyes off of him, and he could tell from Élise’s hostile tone and stiff posture that things weren’t quite right.

      “Is something wrong?” Arno asked when she reached the bottom of the staircase. Élise remained silent and his eyes widened as he realised that Élise was probably informed that he had killed her Father.

     “Élise, whatever you have been told, I had nothing to do with Monsieur De La Serre’s murder.”

       Élise grimaced at the mention of her Father, his death still raw in her mind.

      “I know it wasn’t you,” she said.

      “Then what is the matter?” Arno asked, taking a few steps towards her until their bodies’ were only inches apart.

        Élise reached into the pocket of her breeches and pulled out the envelope that she found on the floor of her Father’s office.

       “Do you recognise this?”

      Arno’s stomach dropped and even in the dim lighting Élise could see how pale Arno’s face became. Arno recognised it as the same envelope he had taken from Perrault to be delivered to Francois De La Serre, but he had an uneasy feeling that it never reached his adoptive Father.

       “I found this on the floor of my Father’s office…unopened,” Élise explained, confirming Arno’s suspicions. “Read it,” she said, holding the letter out to him.

      He did as she asked, taking the letter from her and shuffling to his right, holding the paper out to catch the light casting through a broken window.  He hesitated a moment, sensing that whatever he was about to read would not be good.

     As his mind processed the words on the paper, beads of sweat formed on his forehead and he began to feel light-headed. If he had delivered this letter properly, Francois De La Serre may well still be here.

       Arno looked back up to Élise.

     “I didn’t know,” he said desperately, taking a step towards her. Élise retaliated and moved away from Arno.

      “Neither did my Father,” she told him. She didn’t sound angry, just completely miserable, and Arno’s heart twisted in his chest at the thought that he had let her down so much.

      “How could I have known?” Arno attempted to reason with Élise.

      She bit her bottom lip and looked down to the ground.

      “Are you going to join them?”

     “What? Who?” Arno asked, completely baffled by the change of direction in the conversation. 

     “The Assassins,” Élise divulged.

      She noticed how Arno straightened his back, and stood taller. Just the mention of the Creed made him act differently. He truly was one of them. Élise pushed the fear that they would soon be enemies to the back of her mind.

     “My Father was an Assassin.” Arno stated.

     “That’s not an answer.”

     “I don’t know if I will,” Arno answered, avoiding her gaze.

     “I think you do,” Élise whispered. “Do you know of my Father? Who he was?”

     “A Templar.” Arno sighed. He guessed Élise had known of her heritage a lot longer than him.

      Élise nodded. “I don’t have to tell you what that makes me, do I?”

     “Élise.” Arno shook his head. “I don’t care about whether or not you’re a Templar, it doesn’t change anything. You are still the Élise I fell in love with.”

     “Oh Arno.” Élise sighed. “I wish that were true.”

     “It is!” Arno exclaimed, the desperation prominent in his tone. “Being a Templar doesn’t-”

      “I don’t mean that, Arno.” Élise cut him off.

      Arno jerked his head away from her in confusion. “Then what…?”

     Élise wanted to run. She wanted to turn around and run and leave the truth unspoken, but she had done that for too long. It was time. She should have done this years ago. Arno had to know of his daughter and Juliette needed a Father. It was only right.

       Élise bit her tongue in her mouth. Should she just say it? Should she try and explain herself first? Should she dance around the subject until Arno correctly guessed the truth? She didn’t know.  She couldn’t think over the rapid heartbeat that drummed in her ears. She stared at Arno, though it felt more like she was looking through him than at him. A strange sensation overtook her, making her feel like she wasn’t completely present in her body and more like she was dreaming. Though if that were true, this would surely be a nightmare.

       All the while Arno stood still, his patience deteriorating as he watched Élise’s expressions flash between terror, apprehension, confusion, gloom, and finally determination. He was troubled by her behaviour; his intuition telling him that something was severely wrong.

      “Élise?” Arno stepped towards her with caution. His voice seemed to shake her from her unresponsive state. She blinked once, twice, and then spoke.

      “I need to tell you something and when I tell you I am certain that you will hate me, and will not listen to anything else that I say, so I want you to know how sorry I am, and how much I regret what I did, and that I love you with all my heart.”

     “Élise, I…” Arno didn’t know how to respond, his bewilderment at Élise’s words hindering his ability to speak. 

      Élise took a deep breath. This was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) The only thing I would like to say here is that I changed things around in the the second half of this chapter because while I wanted to use the main story line there is a little bit of contradiction between the game and novel in that it looks like Arno goes straight to Elise in the game but then in the novel there is a gap of several days, so I came up with this alternative.


	5. Chapter 5

      “Do you remember a couple of years ago, when you asked me why I was always brushing your affections off?” Élise enquired.

       Arno’s face instantly coloured with a pink tinge and he looked down to his feet, before scuffing the floor with the tip of his shoe.

       “Yes,” he responded.

      “I told you it was because I was fearful of becoming pregnant.”

      “Yes, I remember,” Arno said slowly, oblivious as to where this conversation was going.

      Élise heard her own voice screaming in her mind. _Tell him. Tell him. Tell him._

“I was not afraid of becoming pregnant, but rather becoming pregnant again, because four years ago I gave birth to our daughter.”

     Élise had spoken so quickly, she was unsure as to whether Arno had understood her. She watched as his entire body froze and his eyes widened, even his chest ceased to rise and fall indicating his breathing had paused.

     The silence in the room was deafening and the seconds passed by excruciatingly slowly, all the while Arno remained still and Élise silently pleaded for him to speak. 

     “Please say something,” Élise whispered eventually.

      Arno’s eyes locked onto hers, and it wasn’t the same pair of eyes she had looked into only moments ago. Gone was the love and concern for her, and instead she saw nothing. They projected no emotion whatsoever. It was as if Arno was looking at a stranger, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

      “I don’t know what to say,” Arno said mechanically, still not tearing his eyes from Élise’s. His hard stare made her feel increasingly uneasy. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

     “I was scared.”

     “Of me?” Arno asked in disbelief.

     Élise shook her head furiously. “No, never of you. Of the Assassins, and of the Templars.”

      “What does that have to do with not telling me?!” Arno’s voice became louder and Élise could see the frown etching itself deeper into his face.

      “I-I...I was worried...that th-they would…” Élise sighed at her own stuttering, and paused trying to calm herself.

    When she opened her mouth to try and speak again, she quickly clamped it shut when she was hit with a sudden wave of nausea as the reality of the situation hit her. She had told Arno the truth. He knew. For five years she had kept this secret and now it was a secret no more.

    The tears began to collect in her eyes, threatening to spill over with just one more blink on Élise’s part. _Don’t start crying. Please don’t start crying. S_ he begged to herself.

     “Élise!” Arno’s deep gruff voice made her jump.

     Élise wanted to speak, but her throat had become so dry, it felt like there was something stuck in there. She swallowed three times but it didn’t make the feeling disappear, but she had to say something. Anything.

     “I’m sorry.” Élise managed to choke out.

    She pleaded with her eyes for Arno to understand how hard she was trying to explain things, but his expression showed no compassion.

     “Oh well that makes everything alright then doesn’t it?”

     “No,” Élise shook her head. “I know…” The pitch of her voice was too high. She coughed trying to clear her throat of the imaginary blockage, but it only helped a little. “I know that I can never make this right, but I want you to meet your daughter.”

     Arno laughed coldly. “You cannot be serious.”

     “Of course I am,” Élise replied, astonished at Arno’s dismissal.

     Arno began advancing on Élise slowly as he spoke. “Did you not think I should have met her when she was born?!”

      Élise took steps away from Arno until her back hit up against a wall and he had her trapped.

    “Yes, I did, but-”

     “But nothing!”

      Élise held a hand out towards Arno, her fingertips brushing his chest.

     “Arno, you’re angry I understand that, and I-”

      “I am sorry Élise, did you expect me to be calm about this situation?!” He interrupted her again.

      For the first time in her life, Élise was slightly scared of the young man before her. The light casting through the broken window to the side of her illuminated Arno’s face emphasising the shadows caused by his furrowed brow and downturned mouth, making him look all the more furious with her.

      “No,” she whispered. “You have every right to be infuriated with me.”

      “Infuriated does not even cover what I am right now!” Arno shouted, his tone showing no signs of calming.

      Élise remained silent, realising her words were not helping and were only further adding to Arno’s frustration.  

      After a long pause Arno told Élise in a much softer tone. “I think I should go.”

     “Can I please just-”

     “No.” Arno snapped. “No. I don’t want to hear anything else. I need to leave before I do or say something I regret.”

     Arno was evidently struggling to keep a lid on his emotions. Even though he was speaking calmer, Élise could still see that he was shaking with rage.

     “Will you at least think about meeting her?”

      The look she received from Arno was the same one she imagined he would give to someone he utterly despised, except he wasn’t looking at just anyone, he was looking at Élise, and his chilling stare made her shrivel backwards towards the wall as if he had physically pushed her.

      “No I won’t,” Arno seethed. “You should have let me meet her when she was born. You’ve made your bed Élise, now lie in it.”

     “Please, Arno.”

      Élise was taken over by desperation, and stepped towards him. She knew it wasn’t the best move but she couldn’t help herself.

     “Don’t make her suffer for my mistake, it was my fault, she’s completely innocent in this.”

      “It seems she’s done just fine without me so far.” Arno remarked, leaning away from Élise in disgust.

     Élise felt hurt at his words, but Arno had every right to want to hurt her.

    “She needs a Father,” Élise told him gently.

     “I think it’s a little late for that now, Élise.” Arno crossed his arms.

     “Of course it’s not.”

    “Did she not need a Father when she was born?! Or for the past four years?!” Arno exclaimed, his outburst startling Élise.

     “She did,” Élise admitted, looking down to the floor in shame.

      Arno bit his tongue in his mouth. He didn’t want to speak another word to Élise, but he had so many questions buzzing around his mind, and only she could provide the answers.

    “Does she know of me?”

     Élise raises her head before responding to Arno. “No.”

     Arno shook his head and laughed in disbelief. “Are you being serious? You haven’t even told her about me but you want me to meet her?”

     “I haven’t…I didn’t…”

     Élise felt like something was crushing her chest from the inside, slowly fighting to escape. She leaned back against the wall as the room began to spin, her head suddenly feeling unbearably light like she may faint any second, blinking until the feeling passed.

     She focused her attention on Arno once more, though she could only see him through blurred teary vision. Perhaps it was better that her vision wasn’t clear. It meant she couldn’t see the hatred in his eyes.

      “So you’ve lied to her too,” Arno stated.

      “I didn’t lie, I just…well it never really came up in conversation,” Élise mumbled the end of her sentence, worried Arno might yell at her again. “As soon as she asked about you, I was planning on telling her.”

     “Have you heard yourself, Élise?” Arno spat. “Do you realise what you’ve done to me?”

    “Arno…I can explain,” Élise took a step towards Arno, but the warning look he gave her made her place a hand on her chest and take a step back again as she tried desperately not to crumple to floor in despair.

      “I don’t want to hear your explanation. I don’t want to hear another word from you!” Arno told her, pointing a finger at her angrily, before he turned on his heel and stormed towards the entrance door.

     Élise was too stunned to engage a pursuit. She knew that Arno wouldn’t react well to the news, and she had imagined the look he would give her and the things he would say, but no amount of visualising how the situation might play out had prepared her for reality. Élise now realised that there is something quite different about picturing in her mind the inevitable anger in Arno’s eyes, and actually feeling said anger penetrating through her like a dagger to the heart.

      Even though a small part of Élise had hoped for a better outcome, deep down she had always known this is how the conversation would end. It’s why she had avoided it for so long.

      Just as Arno reached the door and pulled it open, Élise managed to shake herself from her daze. She sprinted forward, reaching into the pocket of her tunic as she did so, and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

     “Arno, wait!” Élise shouted. He ignored her, stepping out of the door. Élise reached him and grabbed him by the arm. “Arno, please.”

      Arno shrugged her off forcefully, but the paper in her hand caught his eye, and he stilled.    

     Élise looked Arno directly in the eye even though it broke her heart all over again seeing him so angry and upset at her.

      “That’s where we are, if you want to find us,” Élise told him, holding the paper out.

      Arno stared at the paper for so long, Élise was sure he was going to refuse her offering. Then without warning, he reached out and snatched it from her hand.

      He lingered for a few more seconds, and Élise silently wished for him to say something, but his mouth remained clamped shut in a deep frown, his nostrils continued to flare, and she could see the rise and fall of his shoulders with each breath he took.

      Then he turned, and walked away from her. She watched him until he turned the corner out of her vision, and then she stepped back into the chateau, before she pushed the door shut and rested her head against it.

     As she replayed their conversation over and over in her head, she prayed that she didn’t just make a huge mistake. She also prayed that when Arno had stormed off, it wouldn’t be the last time she ever set eyes upon the man she loved.

***

       Élise wasn’t sure why she had bothered to tidy the chateau. She knew it could be broken into and destroyed once more tomorrow, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave it in such a desolate state.

     She had blocked the doors downstairs, and had ventured upstairs to start a pathetic attempt of restoring the chateau. While the sun lowered itself in the sky, Élise performed a multitude of tasks while constantly keeping her ears open for any sound of movement from downstairs.

      She put the furniture back in its rightful place, swept up the broken shards of glass, porcelain, and clay, and was just in the process of clearing the floor of her family’s possessions at the top of the stairs when she heard a knock on the main door downstairs.

      She placed the bundle of clothes that she had in her arms on the floor, and took tentative steps down the staircase, her hand sliding down the bannister to support her weight.

      Another knock, louder this time.

     There were many possibilities of who could be visiting her, but Élise knew of only one person she wished it to be, and it was the same person she knew it would not be – Arno.

      As Élise reached the door, there was another knock, and this time a voice.

      “Mademoiselle?!”

      Élise’s mouth turned down in disgust and she felt the repulsion build within her at the sound of his voice. She removed the metal bar she had used to secure the door and pulled it open swiftly, glaring at her visitor.

      “Ruddock.” Élise spat.

     “Mademoiselle!” Ruddock looked relieved to see her. “I’ve visited every day for quite some time, only to be told you were not here, I was becoming worried.”

      Élise raised her eyebrow at him, unconvinced by his apparent concern for her. Ruddock glanced around uneasily, causing Élise to grip onto the door handle tighter.

     “Were you followed?” she asked, trying not to appear nervous to the man in front of her.

     “No, I was very careful Mademoiselle, but it is not always safe to be out at night these days,” he replied.

     Élise knew what he was hinting at, and she was having none of it.  She wasn’t going to let him take a step into her home.

     “Do you have something for me Ruddock or are you simply here to waste my time?”

     “I have information, about the man who hired me to kill your Mother,” Ruddock nodded, glancing behind Élise hopefully once more.

      “Go on,” Élise ordered, stepping forward and folding her arms across her chest, blocking the door to make it clear she had no intention of inviting the rotten man inside.

      Ruddock sighed and chewed down on his bottom lip, his nostrils flaring in irritation, but Élise stood firm and Ruddock soon realised she wasn’t going to budge.

      “Have you heard of a man named the King of Beggars?” Ruddock enquired.

     “I can’t say that I have,” Élise replied, leaning her weight onto her right hip. “He is the one who hired you?”

     “Not exactly Mademoiselle, though the King of Beggars was affiliated with the man who hired me, and it was he who wanted your Mother dead.”

     “Is that all?” Élise pursed her lips.

     Seeing Ruddock again made her realise that her repulsion for him hadn’t decreased at all since their last meeting.

     “The Assassins have tried to kill him in the past and failed,” Ruddock spoke quickly as if he was scared he was about to get a door slammed in his face.

      “Why do they want him dead?”  
      “He rules over the beggars of the city, they pay him a tribute and if it isn’t high enough, he orders a man named La Touche to amputate their limbs. Seems to think people will give more generously to limbless beggars.”

       Élise grimaced at the thought. “And?” she pressed, sensing there was more Ruddock had to say.

      “He’s a Templar Mademoiselle.”

     “You are lying. My Father would never have allowed that.”

     “I tell only the truth,” Ruddock said earnestly.

      Élise could tell by his tone that he was indeed telling the truth, and if these people had plotted against her Mother, it was highly likely they had involvement in the death of her Father too, and she could bet they had their eye on Élise herself as well.

     Élise kept her expression impassive towards the man in front of her as she gave him a slight nod, silently and reluctantly thanking him for his information.

      “Goodbye Ruddock,” Élise said, before slamming the door in his face.

***

     Arno’s heart was breaking in his chest, he was sure of it. He had never felt pain or anger like this. It bubbled inside of him, spreading to his every fibre.

     With each furious step he took away from the De La Serre’s chateau, the betrayal seemingly increased in his mind causing his head to feel like it may explode at any moment. 

     Did Élise really think she could just tell him he had a daughter, and expect him just to go and meet her, just like that?  No, even Élise isn’t that naïve, she obviously knew Arno would react badly to this, because there is no other reason why she would have prepared the note scrunched up in his palm containing the location of his daughter.

      Arno could feel his body shaking with fury as he walked. How could she hide this from him? How could she do this to him? How could she lie for all this time? How could she not tell him of what should be the most important thing in his life? Why should he do anything for her? Why should he care?

      In a fit of rage, Arno stormed over to a nearby shop, his shoes crunching on the broken glass of the destroyed window. Someone had set the shop alight, the fire not roaring as it once was, but blazing all the same. Arno held his arm through the open window and the heat of the flames washed over his hand while he stood still for a moment, as if he had forgotten what he was doing. 

     He still couldn’t quite believe what Élise had told him. It was as if his mind was refusing to process the conversation that had just occurred, because every minute or so it seemed to dawn on him again that he had a child, and the shock would repeat itself all over again. 

       A daughter; he has a daughter.

     Arno finds himself wondering what his daughter looks like. Does she look like him, or Élise? Brown hair or red? Blue eyes or brown? Does she misbehave like he and Élise did when they were children? What does her voice sound like? Or her laugh? What does her smile look like?

      Shaken from his own daze by his desire to know the answer to all of his questions, Arno pulled his hand away from the fire and opened his palm, the scrunched up ball of paper springing open slightly. He took two steps away from the shop, his slow movements irritating passers-by, who bumped into him as they rushed past.

     Arno carefully unfolded the paper, cautious not to rip it, and smoothed out as many creases as he could. Then he read:

      _Arno,_

_You will find your daughter in the groundskeepers lodge at Maison Royale. Travel to the main building, ask to speak with Madame Levene, and she will direct you to us.  
    Please, no matter how much you despise me, come for your daughter.  I truly wish for you to be a part of her life. _

_I beg for your compassion on this matter,_

_Élise._

     Arno sighed. He wasn’t sure he could muster enough compassion for the matter. He would try though. He would try for his daughter.

***

       Upon her arrival back at Saint-Cyr, Élise refused to speak to anyone about what happened between her and Arno. She had nodded and shaken her head to most of Mr. Weatherall’s questions in regards to what happened before she told Arno of Juliette, but as soon as he asked how that conversation went, Élise clamped her mouth shut and responded with only silence.

     Mr. Weatherall wasn’t an idiot and he knew full well that things must not have gone smoothly, but this is what they expected. Élise knew that Arno wouldn’t leap with joy at the news he had a four-year-old daughter.

    Several days after she had arrived back at the lodge, Mr. Weatherall found Élise where she spent most of her days. He watched as she spent hours seated at the front window of the lodge, staring out, scanning the perimeter for any sign of danger. Mr. Weatherall was sure she was more on edge than before she went to speak with Arno.

     “Can you at least tell me if you were able to inform Arno of where you are?” Mr. Weatherall questioned Élise.

      There was a long pause before Élise mumbled. “Maybe.”

     “What the bloody hell does that mean?” Mr. Weatherall countered, staring open-mouthed at the back of her head.

    “It means maybe I was able to inform him. I gave him the information to find us, but it’s up to him how or _if_ he uses it,” Élise replied, her tone sounding soft and like she was in a daydream.

     Mr. Weatherall raised his eyebrows, causing his forehead to be riddled with creases. Aside from when she spoke to Juliette that was the most he had heard Élise say in days.

     He sighed under his breath as he left Élise to it, but as the older man wandered through the lodge, he pondered on something. Mr. Weatherall had assumed that when Élise performed her ritualistic staring each and every day she was on the lookout for danger, but now, he wondered if she was looking for something else, that something else being Arno.

***

      Arno had spent a lot of his spare time wondering if he truly did have a part to play in Monsieur De La Serre’s death. He knew that Élise thought he did, he could see the blame in her eyes as she handed him the letter he should have delivered directly to his adoptive Father’s hand, but Arno didn’t much care what Élise thought. At least, that’s what he told himself anyway, but as much as he tried, he couldn’t completely disregard her opinion.

      In his head, Arno swayed between blaming himself to protesting his innocence. His mind became an intense battlefield with him being the only one fighting. Yes, maybe reading the letter would have made Monsieur De La Serre more vigilant that fateful night, but Arno did not kill him. He was not the one who attacked him, or struck the final blow.

       Arno couldn’t quite understand why but despite how furious he was with Élise, he still felt like his heart was splitting in two at the fact she placed part of the blame on his shoulders. The thought burdened him with enough guilt to almost crush him.  

      After escaping the Bastille, Arno felt lost. More lost than he had ever felt before in his life. There were decisions that he had to make, and life-changing opportunities for him to consider, but instead of feeling optimistic with his options, Arno felt rather overwhelmed and trapped.

     Despite how confused he felt, Arno concluded two things. One, that he would build up the courage to visit his daughter before the year was done, and two, that he would find all those responsible for Monsieur De La Serre’s death and bring them to justice.

      Arno’s first conclusion wouldn’t be an easy one to carry out. Yes, he wanted to meet his daughter, but he needed time to process it. When Élise told him, it was so out of the blue, and it felt like she had drowned him in responsibilities that he wasn’t ready to accept. His chest tightened in apprehension every time he thought of their child, and that feeling didn’t do anything for his confidence. He should be happy when he thinks of his daughter. What kind of Father was he if all he felt was paralysing fear at meeting his child?  He hoped over time, the anxieties would die down, though he doubted it.

       In terms of avenging Monsieur De La Serre, the one place Arno found a glimmer of hope to help with his endeavours was within the Brotherhood of the Assassins. He found their underground headquarters, and passed their initiation tests, and became a part of their creed. Arno felt like he finally belonged somewhere, and like he was carrying out a destiny that he had been unwise to until recently. Arno also liked the fact that it made him feel closer to his Father, who he still missed dearly.

      Over the passing weeks of a warm but pleasant summer, Arno grew from a lost and desolate boy into a confident and fearless young man within the Creed. He listened and respected his mentors, he learned the skills and ways of the Brotherhood, and developed into a man he hoped his Father would be proud of.

     There was only one downside to Arno’s new life; the Assassins sworn enemies were the Templars.

     Pierre Bellec, the man who had taught Arno most of what he knew in the Brotherhood, had educated Arno on the hostility between the Creed and the Order. He had also informed Arno that it was Monsieur De La Serre who was the Grand Master of the Templar Order before he died. While Arno was aware that his adoptive Father was a Templar, he did not know he had such a high rank. It didn’t take long for Arno to work out that with their previous leader gone Élise would now be Grand Master. He didn’t quite know how he felt about that.

       Arno kept his romantic feelings for Élise locked away in his heart, not daring to risk any of his fellow Creed members finding out that he had affections for someone who should be their sworn enemy. Not only that, he was terrified of the Creed finding out that he had a child who was half-Templar, for he doubted they would pat him on the back and congratulate him, and he couldn’t bear the thought of putting the daughter he had never even met in danger.

      It was hard to hear others speak of the Templars in such a derogatory way, and Arno sometimes cringed at some of the comments from other Assassins. He was sure that the majority of his brotherhood would gladly cut down any member of the Templar Order without a second thought. Regardless of his discontent towards Élise, the thought that she was in any sort of danger made Arno feel slightly nauseous.

      During his time in the Creed, Arno managed to keep an impassive front whenever he mentioned Élise. The few times he told the story of his childhood in the De La Serre estate, Arno always lied his way through part of the story of his upbringing, referring to Élise as merely ‘someone who was just there a few weeks of the year.’

      Unbeknown to Arno, there was one Assassin who saw through his lies. This Assassin saw the affections Arno had for this ‘Élise’ he spoke of. This Assassin had spent longer with Arno than anyone else and had known him before he was accepted into the Creed. This Assassin noticed Arno’s façade slipping whenever he said _her_ name.

      While Arno and the rest of the Creed were unwise to his change in demeanour when speaking of her, Pierre Bellec was not. He saw the underlying desire and love Arno felt for Mademoiselle De La Serre, and he was not impressed in the slightest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I did it a little in this chapter, but more so in the next couple of chapters I intend to add quite a lot of stuff into the timeline. So we are currently still in 1789 in my story.  
> As much as I liked the game/novel, I would have liked it more if there wasn't such big gaps in time, namely in the game, so that's something I'm going to explore :)  
> Also, I'm not going to go into too much depth with what is already written in the novel, as I don't want to repeat too much of it, only the things that I want to alter. So I am sorry if you haven't read the novel and are a bit confused with some parts of this, but I'm judging things based on my friend who reads this and hasn't read the novel, and I ask her if anything is really confusing and change things accordingly. So hopefully everything makes sense to the non-novel readers.
> 
> Okay, enough babbling, but just before I go as I'm posting this on Easter - Happy Easter to anyone who celebrates it :)


	6. Chapter 6

    “He’s not coming, is he?”

     Élise knew there was no need for such a question, for she already knew the answer, but she hoped by voicing her thought she may finally accept it as the truth.

     “I don’t know,” Mr. Weatherall replied from behind her.

      Élise folded her arms and stared out the window. Her gaze locked onto her daughter and Hélène returning from a morning stroll. Juliette looked so happy. She knew nothing of the turmoil her Mama had been going through as of late, but Élise knew the blissful naivety wouldn’t last forever and that one day the oblivious bubble her daughter lived in would burst. As Juliette and Hélène had entered the lodge, Élise closed her eyes and let her daughter’s joyful laughter wash over her like a refreshing summer breeze.

     So many days had passed since she last saw Arno - sixty-five to be exact – and her optimism had long since dwindled to nothing. Élise had accepted that she probably would never see him again unless she sought him out herself. Should she though? Was it her place to force fatherhood onto him? She honestly didn’t believe it was.

     Élise was almost sure Arno would have joined the Assassins by now, and she was silently thankful for every day that went by without someone from the Creed turning up on her doorstep looking for the half-Templar, half-Assassin child. Although she had much trust in Arno to not inform the Brotherhood of his daughter, Élise was sure she would always still be fearful of them finding out. Perhaps it was a worry that would never leave her.

     Despite Élise’s relentless and heightened stress after telling Arno of their daughter, she didn’t regret it. Not one bit. Did she wish things had played out differently? Of course she did, but it was what it was. Now she just had to figure out a way of telling her daughter of Arno.

     She had planned to tell Juliette shortly after returning to Saint-Cyr, but as the days went by with no sign of Arno, Élise began to wonder if she should say anything that might give her daughter false hope. After all, there was no guarantee Arno would ever want to be part of her life, and Élise knew full well that only she was to blame for that one.

     As it was, Élise’s quandary was solved without her doing. On the sixty-ninth night since she told Arno of his daughter, Élise had tucked Juliette into bed and had joined Mr. Weatherall for a while downstairs before retiring to bed herself. Unbeknown to the pair, someone had snuck out of bed and had crept down the staircase.

      “Mama, I can’t sleep,” Juliette whined, interrupting the two adults when she walked into the room, rubbing her tired eyes.

      Élise smiled at her daughter who scrunched her eyes shut and covered her mouth as it was taken over by a long yawn. Élise pushed herself up from the comfort of her chair and walked over to Juliette, picking her up and balancing her on her hip. She often forgot how much Juliette had grown and within a few seconds, the little girl’s weight took its toll on Élise’s body and she could feel the muscles in her arms straining as they adjusted to the added load.

      “And what are we supposed to do when we can’t sleep?”

     “Try harder, but I did Mama, I did,” Juliette mumbled into Élise’s shoulder as she wrapped her arms around her neck. “Can you tell me a story?”

      “Alright,” Élise chuckled. “Come on then.”

      She placed her daughter gently on the floor, before giving Mr. Weatherall an apologetic smile. The older man returned her smile, waving his hand to show he didn’t mind.

      “I’ll be here when you get back,” he told her.

      Élise followed Juliette up the staircase, who insisted on jumping on each step with both her feet, doubling the time it should have taken to ascend.

     Once they had reached Juliette’s bedchamber, Élise shut the door behind them as the little girl pulled herself up on the bed, crawling to the top end.

     “Mama, can I ask you something?” Juliette asked.

     Élise walked over and pulled back Juliette’s blanket, causing her daughter to lie down obediently.

    “Of course,” Élise smiled, pulling the blanket up to her daughter’s chin, before sitting down on the bed careful not to squash Juliette’s legs.

      “What’s a Father?”

      Élise’s eyes widened at her daughter’s enquiry, before she neutralised her expression, her façade fully initiated.

     “Where did you hear that word?” Élise questioned, trying to keep her tone calm.

      As far as Élise knew, Juliette was unwise as to what a ‘Father’ or ‘Papa’ was. No one in the household used those words. Mr. Weatherall and Hélène’s Fathers were both long gone, Jacques had never met his Father, and Élise always referred to Francois as ‘Grandpapa’ when she spoke to her daughter.

      Juliette bit her bottom lip, sensing she was in trouble with her Mama, and felt fearful that she might be chastised. Perhaps it was a naughty word and she wasn’t supposed to use it.

      “Hélène said it to Jacques.” Juliette mumbled, tucking her chin in towards her chest and avoiding her Mama’s scrutinising stare.

      Élise saw how uncomfortable her daughter was, and instantly felt guilty for making her feel that way for asking a perfectly acceptable question.

     “Oh darling, I’m sorry, it’s okay, don’t be worried,” Élise soothed her daughter, reaching out with her hand and stroking Juliette’s forehead.

     “Is it a bad word?” Juliette whispered.

     “No, no it’s not.” Élise sighed. She would have laughed if the situation was not so serious.

     Élise removed her hand from her daughter’s head and withdrew it to her lap, before moving her gaze to the window, focusing on the glittering stars scattered across the night sky as she deliberated what to say.

      Juliette watched as her Mama opened and closed her mouth multiple times, inhaled and exhaled, then pursed her lips with her cheeks puffed out as her shoulders sagged. Juliette thought she looked quite funny like that.

      Eventually, Élise turned to her daughter and gave her a small smile. “Why don’t we discuss this tomorrow? Would that be okay?”

     Juliette nodded. “Yes, Mama.”

    “Good,” Élise replied, relieved she could have the night to get over the shock of Juliette’s question. “So what would you like a story about?”

***

     The next day, Élise had braced herself for more questions on the topic of what a ‘Father’ was, but the morning passed without any indication that Juliette was still interested in finding out more information. Élise began to think that perhaps the groggy state her daughter was in last night meant that she couldn’t quite remember the conversation they had, and that maybe Juliette wouldn’t mention it for a while.

      As usual, Élise was wrong.

     She was quite wise to the fact that young children don’t really have the concept of what is a good or bad time to say something, and Juliette was no different.

     Her daughter came running in to the kitchen, where Élise was helping Hélène prepare the evening meal. Juliette rushed past Mr. Weatherall, who was seated at the table with a cup of tea, and ran up to her Mama, gripping onto the fabric of her breeches covering Élise’s thigh.

     “Mama, can I ask you something?” Juliette stared up at her Mama with a warm smile on her face.

      Élise turned from the kitchen counter and began smoothing down her daughter’s wild red curls. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest as the seconds ticked by.

     “Is it about what we discussed last night?” Élise enquired, to which she received a quick nod from Juliette. “Well not just now, darling, later.”

     If Juliette was about to ask what Élise thought she was, it wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have in front of Hélène and Mr. Weatherall.

     “Oh but Mama!” Juliette whined.

    “Juliette…” Élise said, her voice underlined with caution.

     Juliette’s whole body sank as she let go of her Mama’s breeches. Élise could imagine the internal battle the little girl was experiencing as to whether to make a scene or not. She was only four after all, and didn’t always like to be told no.

    “This isn’t fair,” Juliette complained, jutting her bottom lip out. “You said tomorrow!”

     “Juliette, we will discuss it later, or not at all,” Élise said sternly, hoping her tone was enough to stop a tantrum from ensuing.

     Juliette took a step back from her Mama and crossed her arms. Élise saw the rebellious glint in her daughter’s eyes and noted how Juliette’s eyebrows moved ever so slightly upwards as if she was saying _‘No, we will talk about it now.’_

Élise wondered if she was ever this defiant at Juliette’s age, or if it was something she had inherited from Arno. He was a lot better behaved than herself once he was taken on as their ward, but perhaps before Élise had met Arno he was a lot like Juliette. She would not normally accept this kind of behaviour from Juliette, but how could she raise her voice when the reason for her daughter’s behaviour was because of Élise’s own lies.

     Juliette became increasingly agitated as time went on at not getting an answer. Mr. Weatherall glanced over to the both of them.

      “What is it she wants to know?” he questioned, not quite understanding what the problem was.

     “Nothing,” Élise said quickly.

      Juliette huffed, ignoring her Mama and turned to the older man before she took a deep breath and stamped her foot.

     “I want to know what a Father is!” Juliette told him in a loud voice that echoed slightly in the kitchen.

      Élise felt her whole body tense as a shiver ran down her spine. Mr. Weatherall’s mouth opened in shock and Hélène cringed next to Élise, before she placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

     “Élise, I’m so sorry, I was talking to Jacques and it just slipped out, I didn’t think she had even heard me,” Hélène apologised.

     “It’s fine.” Élise brushed Hélène off. “I already knew, she mentioned it to me last night.”

      Hélène bowed her head in shame as the room was engulfed in an uncomfortable silence. Juliette glanced around at the adults, one by one, not liking the fact that they were talking as if she wasn’t there.

     “Élise?” Mr. Weatherall’s voice penetrated through Élise’s daze, but his voice sounded like he was a lot further away than just a few metres.

     “Come with me,” Élise told her daughter, outstretching her left hand. Juliette obediently reached out and took her Mama’s hand. Élise noticed Mr. Weatherall watching her with much intent.

    “Élise, what are you-”     

    “It’s time that I told her, Mr. Weatherall,” Élise cut the older man off.

     And it was.

    Élise was tired of waiting anxiously for her daughter to ask questions about her Father. She was tired of deliberating whether or not to say anything at all just in case Arno did or didn’t show up. It was better to tell Juliette now rather than have her mature enough to learn about it elsewhere, because Élise should be the one to tell her, and now the opportunity was laid out before her, she was going to take it.

      Juliette could sense that something wasn’t quite right, but took comfort when she felt her Mama’s hand squeeze her own.

     Élise led her daughter out of the kitchen, up the staircase, and towards her bedchamber. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to her indicating for Juliette to join her. As the little girl pulled herself up onto the bed, Élise’s face rapidly increased in temperature, and it felt like she was being suffocated by an invisible blanket, her every breath ten times harder than normal.

      Élise opened her mouth but no sounds were produced. She just didn’t know what to say. Her head had become foggy and blank, and she had to force herself to blink when her eyes began to sting from being wide with terror for so long. Élise moved her gaze towards Juliette’s inquisitive and fearful eyes.

      “So…a Father…” Élise began, causing her daughter to eagerly lean forward, desperate to know the new information her Mama would provide. “Well…a Father is someone a lot like a Mother, like I am to you, except a Father is a man, not a lady. Everybody has one of each.”

      Juliette frowned, and Élise worried she had confused her, but then Juliette held her small hands up in the air dramatically. “I don’t have one!”

      “No, well, yes…” Élise stumbled on her words. “Well you see the thing is-”

      “Do you have a Father?”

      Élise blinked at her daughter, not best pleased that she had interrupted her, but not quite annoyed enough to reprimand her.

     “Yes, I do. Well I did. Remember Grandpapa? He was my Father.”

     Élise watched as Juliette mouthed the word ‘Grandpapa.’

     “You see, when you are younger, you tend to call your Father ‘Papa’, so your Grandfather was ‘Grandpapa.’ Just like I’m your Mother but you call me Mama,” Élise explained.

      Juliette’s frown returned and she looked extremely puzzled. Élise’s body deflated as she realised what a terrible job she was doing.

     Juliette looked up to her Mama. “So a Father and a Papa are…”

   “The same thing.” Élise finished.

   She eyed her daughter warily, to see if anything was becoming clearer for the little girl, and after a few seconds she saw a slight lift in Juliette’s expression.

  “Where can I get one?” Juliette asked innocently, before smiling at her Mama. _His smile. Arno’s smile._

 “Get what?”

     “A Papa of course!”

    Juliette’s display of naivety almost made Élise cry, the little girl sounding as if she believed it would be as simple as taking a carriage to the nearest town and purchasing a Papa in a shop. Élise took a deep breath, knowing there is no turning back once these words have been spoken.

      “You already have a Papa, Juliette, just like everyone else.”

     Élise realised her daughter clearly hadn’t quite grasped this conversation, and she wished she could have waited until Juliette was a little older to explain all of this to her, but that would have been too perfect, and nothing was ever perfect in Élise’s life.

      Juliette’s eyes widened and she appeared to be frozen for a few seconds, her expression unchanging. Then she surprised Élise when a huge grin appeared on her face and she laughed animatedly.

      “Where is he? Can I see him?” Juliette requested eagerly, as she rested her hands on Élise’s thighs and leaned closer to her Mama’s face.

       Élise is momentarily speechless. She wasn’t expecting this reaction at all.

     “Mama? Can I?” Juliette repeated, becoming impatient with not receiving an answer.

      “I don’t know,” Élise whispered, unblinking as if in a daze.

     Juliette leaned even closer to Élise, her tiny palms digging into Élise’s thighs. “Why not?”

     Élise cleared her throat. “It’s complicated.”

     Juliette wasn’t completely sure of the meaning of that word, but she guessed that is was a fancy adult way of saying ‘no’. She tilted her head forward and looked up to her Mama with pleading eyes.

      “Please,” Juliette begged.

      Élise’s heart felt like it was breaking in her chest, and without really thinking she replied to her daughter.

     “I’ll try and sort something out.”

      Élise resisted the temptation to fling her hand to her mouth in retaliation of what she had just said.

     “Really?” Juliette’s eyes lit up.

     “Really,” Élise confirmed.

     _No, no, no, what are you doing?_ Élise’s own voice screamed at her in her mind. She didn’t know how she was going to persuade Arno to come and see his daughter. It seemed like an impossible task due to the fact Élise was certain Arno couldn’t even bear to be in the same room as her after she told him of Juliette, but she had to do something more than just sit here.

     Élise began feeling anxious just thinking about confronting Arno, but one look at Juliette’s hopeful smile was enough to make her disregard her building apprehensions. Perhaps Arno may turn Élise away, perhaps he may shout at her, or perhaps she wouldn’t even be able to find him, but she had to try and fix things. She had to because she had told Juliette she would.

     As Juliette wrapped her arms around Élise’s neck, mumbling her thanks into her shoulder, Élise sighed, and sincerely hoped she wouldn’t let her daughter down.

***

      “You want me to do what exactly?” Élise questioned, looking at her protector in astonishment.

      “You heard me, I’ve been communicating with those in my network and it seems we still have some support for the De La Serre name within the Order. If you want to take it back, you need to act now.”

      “And you believe calling a meeting and asserting my leadership will achieve that?”

      “I believe it will help, not only that, it will help root out who is working against you, and if they had any involvement in your Father’s death,” Mr. Weatherall explained in a stern and arduous tone.

      “I’m not entirely sure I want to know the answer to that.” Élise sighed, crossing her arms.

      “Of course you do,” Mr. Weatherall countered.

      Élise side-eyed her protector but didn’t argue back. He was right, as he nearly always was. She did want to know who was working against her, but knowing can sometimes be worse than not knowing. For when Élise is wise to a problem, she has to tackle said problem. At least when she doesn’t know who to place the blame upon, she can bury her head in the sand. 

      “Okay,” Élise sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re right, I do want to know.”

     “Thought as much.”

     “I will host the meeting in Versailles, in our family estate, that way no one will be able to forget that the De La Serre’s are the true Grand Master’s.”

      “That’s maybe not the wisest move,” Mr. Weatherall disagreed, managing to extinguish Élise’s newfound confidence in a second.

      She turned away from him, but the older man saw the forlorn look on Élise’s face, even as she tried to hide it.

     “I’ve found you a Lieutenant, a young man named Jean Burnel,” he informed her, trying to lighten her spirits.

     Élise turned her head slightly to look at him through the corner of her eye. “Is he trustworthy?”

    “Completely.”

     “Good.”

     “I can get him to alert the members of the Order for your meeting right away, if you would like?”

     “Yes.” Élise nodded. “I would like that very much.”

     Mr. Weatherall wasn’t convinced. The woman before him had that distant look in her eyes, and she was speaking slowly and slightly slurred, as if she were drunk, though he knew no wine had passed her lips.

    “Thank you, Mr. Weatherall,” Élise said, standing up and exiting the kitchen without another word.

     Mr. Weatherall watched her go realising her mind wasn’t on the Order at all, and he could bet that she was thinking about a certain Assassin instead, as she always seemed to be these days.  Mr. Weatherall just hoped for Élise’s sake that wherever the boy was, he was at least considering coming to meet Juliette.

*******

       Each and every day Arno had tried to convince himself to visit his daughter, and every day ended the same, with him crawling into bed, not managing to build up the courage to do so.

      Even though Arno came no closer to avenging Monsieur De La Serre, his missions within the Brotherhood kept him busy, and were an excuse for Arno to try and forget about Élise. Alas, it seemed that no matter how much Arno trained, or how many missions he performed with excellence, nothing could keep his mind off of her.  

      He continuously found himself listening out for any snippets of conversation regarding the Templar’s in the hope that he may hear something of their Grand Master, even though he told himself that he didn’t care.

      He often walked past the chateau in Paris, usually at night, and waited in the shadows of the rooftops for any signs of life from within, but the chateau remained shrouded in darkness, indicating that there was no chance of Élise being within. He didn’t know if he was glad of that or not, his feelings were most confusing.

      Arno increasingly dwelled on Élise and his daughter, so much so that it began to affect his life. Every time he spotted a glimpse of red-hair, he would think of Élise, every time someone in the Brotherhood mentioned the Templars, he would think of Élise, every time he saw a young girl, he wondered if she had any similarities to his own daughter. He wished it would stop.

      One day, when the summer had long gone and autumn leaves covered the ground, something was said that made Arno’s heart leap into his throat. It was during a conversation between himself and Pierre Bellec. What had started as quite a general conversation had quickly turned into one about the Templar’s, as it often did with Bellec. Arno couldn’t understand why the older man was so interested in them, he found it quite unnerving.

      Arno kept his expression impassive as he listened intently to Bellec, who informed him how the Templar Order had descended into a state of ruin due to them having no solid leader. While that confused Arno, as he still believed Élise to be their leader, that wasn’t what made him feel dizzy with fear, or what made his knees shaky and his heart hammer in his chest. It was what happened next that caused Arno to feel that way.

     Bellec had gone on to say how the Creed had knowledge that Mademoiselle De La Serre had called a gathering tonight, but it was well known that most of the Order had turned against the De La Serre’s, and that there was probably no need for the Assassin’s to think of De La Serre’s daughter as a threat, because she would most likely be taken out by her own Order, perhaps even tonight.

     “That’s…but…what about the alliance between the Creed and the…and the Order?” Arno stuttered.

      Bellec shrugged as he noticed the way Arno’s body stiffened, indicating he was right all along in regards to the boy’s feelings for the De La Serre girl.

     “Where?!” Arno demanded, not even trying to hide his fury.

    “Excuse me?” Bellec shook his head, pretending to be bewildered at Arno’s anger.

    “Tell me where this meeting is.” Arno glared at the man opposite him.

     “And why would you require that information?” Bellec enquired.

     Arno’s mouth opened and closed three times, making him look like a fish, and he cursed in his mind as he suddenly realised the hole he had dug himself in to. As Arno stared at Bellec, something in the man’s eyes along with his sly half-smile made Arno realise that the older man knew exactly why he wanted the information.

     “You know why,” Arno seethed.

     Bellec began shaking his head slowly, and then increased his movements until he was moving his head from side-to-side ferociously. He pointed a finger at Arno.

     “This needs to stop,” Bellec told the younger man, much like an angry parent would with a misbehaving child.

     Arno straightened his posture and set his jaw defiantly. “Or what?”

     “Or you’ll end up dead as well as her,” Bellec whispered harshly, leaning his head closer to Arno, making him feel a little intimidated. Arno didn’t let it show.

     “Where…is…she?” Arno questioned, enunciating each word.

     Bellec frowned. He could not voice the amount of disappointment he felt towards the young Assassin in front of him. He turned around forcefully, his robe swishing out as he did so, and began to walk away from Arno, leaving him open-mouthed and panicked.  

      Arno considered running after Bellec, pushing him up against a wall, and threatening him until he informed Arno of Élise’s whereabouts, but Arno knew Bellec wasn’t one for giving up information easily. Instead, Arno turned, and rushed to where he knew he may find an answer – with one of the only Assassins who had a slight understanding with the Templar’s, his Mentor Mirabeau.

      Arno stopped when he reached the room where the Mentors could usually be found, and knocked, waiting impatiently for an invitation in by someone.

     “Enter!”

      A sigh of relief escaped Arno’s lips as he heard the voice of Mirabeau float through the door, though his relief was short lived when he entered the room and saw that another Mentor was present. Sophie Trenet was seated next to Mirabeau. Arno knew she was not so fond of the Templars, and he swallowed hard realising this wasn’t going to be as simple as he thought.

     “Monsieur Dorian?” Trenet said in a questioning manner.

     Arno wet his lips nervously as both Mentors stared at him expectantly. He couldn’t decide whether to ask to speak with Mirabeau alone, and risk raising Trenet’s suspicions, or just ask about the Templar meeting, and risk Trenet realising he had more loyalty to Élise than she ever imagined. Neither option had a desirable outcome.

       “Could I speak with Mentor Mirabeau please?” Arno asked, going with the lesser of two evils.

      Trenet tilted her head and frowned, raising her eyebrows as she enquired. “Whatever for, Monsieur Dorian?”

      “It’s…a…a private matter, Mentor.” Arno tried his best not to stumble on his words, but he was nervous, and could feel the heat rising in his face.

     “Nothing should be private in the Creed,” Trenet informed him. Her expression hardened as she crossed her arms.

      Arno knew he was getting nowhere, and Élise’s time could be running out. He sighed in defeat. It was obvious Trenet wasn’t going to leave, and the longer he tried to make her, the more infuriated she would become. He inhaled deeply through his nose and then exhaled, trying to expel some of his anxiety with it, before turning his gaze towards Mirabeau.

      Arno straightened his stature, and spoke with more confidence than he possessed. “I came here to request that you tell me of the location of the Templar meeting tonight.”

    “And why would I do that?” Mirabeau frowned at the request.

    Arno bit down on his tongue inside his mouth. What was he supposed to say? He clenched his fists tightly at his side, and felt his fingernails dig into his palms as he debated what reason to give.

     “I have reason to believe Mademoiselle De La Serre is in danger,” Arno said, his voice wavering.

     “And why is that any of your concern?” Trenet asked.

    “She was my…well we…grew up together,” Arno answered, speaking like he wasn’t quite sure of his words.

    “Need I remind you that Mademoiselle De La Serre is a Templar?” Trenet pointed out.

    “You need not,” Arno replied.

    “So why is it your intention to help a _Templar_?” Trenet enquired, saying the last word of her sentence like it left a bad taste in her mouth.

     Arno could feel his fists beginning to shake at his sides and he folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to hide his nervousness.

    “Like I said, we grew up together. As much as I understand that the Templars are our enemies, I cannot just stay here knowing her life is at risk.”

    Trenet’s eyebrows rose.  “So you mean to save Mademoiselle De La Serre?”

   “Yes.” Arno nodded.

   “Then we deny your request.” Trenet said abruptly.

    Arno blinked in surprise, his calm front completely slipping.  “How can you sit there when her life is at risk?!” Arno exclaimed, before pointing a finger at Mirabeau. “You…you were close with her Father, you made an agreement, you-”

      “Yes, yes,” Mirabeau interrupted Arno, holding his hand up in an attempt to get the boy to hush. “We have, or had a truce of sorts with the Templars, though I’m not entirely sure where it stands anymore…” The older man sighed. “Regardless, it is none of our concern what the Templars decide to do within their own Order.”

     “But it’s Élise!” Arno replied desperately.

     He knew that his Mentors would realise he was fonder of Élise than he had let on, but Arno concluded that was better than her ending up dead because he couldn’t save her.

     Mirabeau surveyed the young Assassin in front of him, and realised he was looking at a young boy in love. This could not be good news for anyone concerned.

     “Monsieur Dorian, is there something you would like to divulge?” Mirabeau questioned.

     “I need to save Élise,” Arno said quietly, only looking at Mirabeau. He could see out the corner of his eye that Trenet was shaking her head, but Mirabeau was giving him a considering look, and Arno’s heart lifted with hope.

  “Very well,” Mirabeau shattered the tense silence. “You will find Mademoiselle De La Serre at Hôtel de Lauzun.”

   “Thank you, Mentor.”

   Arno bowed his head, glancing to Trenet who had her mouth hung agape in shock, but before she even had the chance to make any attempts to stop Arno, he had fled from the room and was sprinting out of the sanctuary. As he ran, he silently pleaded in his head to a higher power that he was not too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did want to get this chapter up at the weekend, but you know...life happened :)  
> So I'm taking quite a different route compared to the actual story line now, but I was just really interested to see what would happen if Arno and Élise had a lot more interaction than they originally did, and Arno knowing about Élise's Templar meeting was one of the things I wished to change. Let's just hope he can make it in time!  
> Not much else to say other than thanks for reading, and I hope you have a nice day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think. Also, I apologize for any mistakes but I have tried my best to find them all.


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